<s<git^ 


POEMS 


MRS.  LOUISA  H.  NICHOLLS 


NEW    YORK: 

C.    S.    FEAXCIS    AXD    COMPANY 

554    B  R  O  A  D  W  A  Y. 

1857. 


MAULIB. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1S5", 

By  C.  S.  Francis  and  Company, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the 

Southern  District  of  New  York. 


9?3 
Mai- 
ls51 


TO 


FEANCIS    E.    TILLOU,    Esq., 


EARLY    FRIEND    OF    OUR    MOTHER, 


Sijes*    fl0£ttt0 


ARE  AFFECTIONATELY  DEDICATED 


BY    HER    CHILDREN 


500 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

DEDICATION   OF    "  EYE," — A  POEM 1 

EYE 3 

VICTORIA.       WRITTEN     WHEN     VICTOEIA    BECAME     QUEEN     OF 

ENGLAND 25 

woman's   LOVE 34 

TO    ZEPHYE 37 

LINES   TO   EDWIN • 39 

TO   MY   DEAEEST   FEIEND 40 

TO    A    SCEPTIC 42 

LINES   FOE  NEW   TBAk's    DAY 48 

TO    MY   COUNTEY,  ON   THE    FOURTH    OF   JULY 50 

HYMN 53 

HYMN.       ON   THE    OCCASION    OF    THE     FIRST     CELEBRATION    OF 

THANKSGIVING,  IN  LOUISIANA 55 

ON   EEADING  TAYLOR'S   DIEGESIS 57 

AMEEICAN  BATTLE   SONG 59 

HUMAN   ASPIRATIONS 01 

ON   THE   PROSPECT   OF   A   WAR   WITH   GREAT   BEITAIN 67 


viii  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

TO     GENERAL    JACKSON,  IN     ANTICIPATION    OF     HIS    VISIT   TO 

LOUISIANA   IN   1828 69 

REQUIEM    ON   TIIE    DEATH    OF    JACKSON 72 

TO  MY  COUNTRY,  DURING   THE   TROUBLES   IN   SOUTn   CAROLINA  73 
TO   MY   COUNTRY,    WRITTEN     AT    THE    SAME    TIME   WITn    THE 

PRECEDING T* 

TO   DEATH 80 

ANNO    DOMINI    '36 $2 

A    "WIFE    TO    HER   HUSBAND    IN    ADVERSITY 86 

SO 

GREECE °° 

LINES    WRITTEN    AT    FIFTEEN 93 

TO    ISABELLA ^° 

TO  MY  SONS,  ON  GOING  TO   THE   RESCUE    OF   GENERAL   TAYLOR  96 

OLD    BUSTLE    HALL 98 

TO    MY    ELDEST    SON,    RETURNING    FROM   THE    ARMY 100 

A   MOTHER   TO    HER    SONS    ON    TnEIR   MARRIAGE 104 

MY    LITTLE    GRANDSON.     A   FRAGMENT 107 

TO   MY   MUSE 109 


DEDICATION    OF    "EYE,' 

A     POEM. 


&0    (fHueen   bictoria. 

While  myriads  throng  around  Victoria's  throne, 
I,  too,  the  impulse  of  that  throng  do  own. 
E'en  though  the  wide  Atlantic  roll  between 
Columbia's  daughter  and  Britannia's  Queen. 

What,  though  my  liege  thou  art  not,  still  thou  art 
My  sister  woman.     And  my  woman's  heart 
Would  testify  the  pleasure  and  the  pride, 
With  which  I  see  thee  o'er  a  state  preside, 
A  mighty  nation's  chief.     Of  jewels  bright, 
That  charm  the  eye  and  court  the  eager  sight, 
I've  none  to  give.     From  fancy's  fairy  bowers 
I  cull  for  thee  a  garland  of  wild  flowers, 
And  at  thy  feet  the  simple  wreath  I  lay 


An  offering  of  the  heart,  that  I  do  pay, 
Not  unto  England's  sovereign  lady.     Nay, 
But  which  with  reverence  meet,  I  proffer  thee, 
As  woman  clothed  in  might  and  majesty. 
Then,  royal  lady,  from  my  hand  receive 
The  touching  story  of  our  mother  Eve. 
I  sing  the  lovely  mother  of  our  race, 
Her  birth  divine,  her  glorious  dwelling-place. 
Roll  back,  old  Time,  and  show  us  Nature's  morn, 
Creation  perfect,  and  her  queen  new-born. 
Show  us  of  paradise  the  bright  array ; 
Present  us  Eve,  as  at  his  feet  she  lay, 
Jehovah's  feet  in  vestal  purity, 
Breathing  of  heaven  and  immortality. 
Withdraw  the  curtain,  to  our  spirit  show, 
The  foe  of  God,  of  man,  the  deadly  foe, 
Who  erst  the  flowery  fields  of  Eden  trod, 
And  found  our  mother  in  her  blest  abode, 
And  reft  her  of  her  innocence  and  God. 


EYE. 

Creation  is  finished,  her  last  work  is  wrought, 
And  the  mother  of  man  to  existence  is  brought. 
He  rests  from  his  labors,  his  plan  is  complete, 
And  radiant  in  beauty,  she  lies  at  his  feet. 
Well  pleased,  he  beholds  her,  his  image  divine 
Is  stamped  on  each  trait  of  the  beautiful  shrine, 
Kot  his  likeness  in  Adam,  on  whose  sterner  face 
The  dread  God  of  justice  and  vengeance,  we  trace. 
For  the  angels  of  darkness,  had  left  on  his  brow 
A  shadow  of  wrath,  which  had  fled  from  it  now. 
The  cloud  had  passed  over,  no  mark  of  his  ire 
Now  ruffled  his  spirit,  or  darkened  its  fire, 
But  refulgent  in  beauty,  and  mercy  alone, 
The  immaculate  God,  in  his  purity  shone : 
The  light  of  his  countenance  falls  on  her  face, 
Which    reflects    back    his    glory   and    mirrors    his 


EVE. 


His  majesty  sits  on  her  forehead  of  snow, 
Where  honor  and  truth  in  their  radiance  glow, 
Her  beautiful  eyes,  his  expression  have  caught. 
They  are  full  of  intelligence,  feeling  and  thought, 
Shall  we  'maze  at  their   lustre  ?   behold  they  have 

won 
Their  beams  from  the  spirit  that  kindled  the  sun. 
Then    her    mouth,   oh!    that    mouth,   its    ineffable 

smile 
Is  his  own,  when  he  blesses,  creation,  the  while ! 
That    he    colors    her    rainbow    and    painteth    her 

flowers, 
And  flavors  the  fruits  which  embellish  her  bowers. 
So  sweet,  so  benignant,  so  void  of  all  guile, 
Is    the    love-breathing    mouth    with    its    heavenly 

smile. 
Her  ivory  form  in  its  symmetry  lay, 
Half  hid  by  her  tresses,  that  witchingly  play 
O'er  the  delicate  cheek,  and  the  forehead  of  snow. 
And  veil  the  fair  neck,  and  the  bosom  below : 
That  exquisite  bosom,  that  beautiful  breast, 
Designed  as  a  fountain  and  pillow  of  rest. 
A  fountain  of  love,  whence  streams  shall  arise 
To  nourish  young  cherubs  and  people  the  skies. 


EVE.  O 

Well  pleased  he  surveys  her,  no  blemish  is  seen 
In  form  or  in  feature,  expression  or  mien, 
He  touched  her  bright  head,  and  softly  impressed 
A  kiss  on  her  brow,  which  he  hallowed  and  blest. 
Behold,  I  endow  thee  from  heaven  above, 
With  truth,  holy  faith,  and  immaculate  love ; 
Henceforth  be  my  temple,  then,  glorious  shrine, 
And  receive  from  thy  Maker  his  spirit  divine. 
He  bends  o'er  the  image,  its  lips  are  apart, 
And    the    breath    of    Jehovah    hath    entered    her 

heart. 
The  soul  of  the  Deity  moves  through  the  frame, 
And  woman,  dear  woman,  immortal  became ! 


'Tis  midnight  in  Eden,  the  moon's  lovely  beams 
Have    brightened    her    bowers,    and    silvered    her 

streams ; 
The  night-blooming  flowers  their  fragrance  exhale, 
And  with  their  sweet  odors  have  laden  the  gale, 
Which  sweeping  in  music  its  harmony  weaves 
And  ripples  the  waters  and  rustles  the  leaves. 


6  EVE. 

Who  enters  the  garden  at  this  solemn  hour? 
What  step  hath  profaned  its  most  sacred  bower? 
The  bower  of  hymen,  the  chamber  of  love. 
Or  is  it  some  spirit,  that  comes  from  above, 
Commissioned  o'er  Eden  his  vigils  to  keep, 
While  wrapt  in  oblivion,  its  young  inmates  sleep? 
Tis  the  fallen  archangel!    he  comes  in  his  wrath. 
His  errand  is  vengeance,  his  mission  is  death ! 
He   has   sworn   their   destruction,  and    here    is   he 

now, 
His  pledge  to  redeem,  and  accomplish  his  vow. 
"And  this  then  is  Eden,  and  here  is  the  race 
To  replenish  waste  heaven,  and  till  up  the  space 
Of  my  recreant  host!     'Tis  a  marvellous  plan, 
Come,  let  us  behold  him,  this  paragon  man. 
But  first  render  thanks  to  the  powers  divine, 
For    Heaven's    new    fav'rite    henceforth    shall    be 

mine ! 
We'll  divide  him  between  us — I  augur  it  well — 
They   may   'plenish    their    heaven,    Fll   people   my 

hell." 
The  drap'ry  of  roses,  he  softly  withdrew, 
And  woman,  fair  woman !    encounters  his  view. 
Proud  Lucifer  bends  o'er  her  pillow  of  sod: 


EVE.  7 

"  'Tis  the  smile  of  a  seraph :  the  brow  of  a  God  ? 
'Tis  his,  'tis  Jehovah's,  'tis  the  face  of  my  Sire, 
Ere  sin  and  sedition  had  kindled  his  ire. 
Let  me  kneel,  let  me  kneel,  an  apostate  no  more, 
Let  me   gaze   on   that   brow,  and  lost  heaven   de- 
plore !" 
Remorseful  a  moment,  fierce  Lucifer  stood, 
By  her   beauty   entranced,   by  her  sweetness   sub- 
dued ! 
Oh  !    she  is  no  image  of  vengeance  and  power, 
She  is  pure  as  the  dew,  and  as  frail  as  the  flower. 
lie  feels  it  is  bliss  in  her  presence  to  dwell, 
Forgetful  of  heaven,  regardless  of  hell. 
While  crouching  beside  her,  inhaling  her  breath, 
He    forgets    his    dark    scheme    of    seduction    and 
death. 
How  calmly  she  slumbers !    no  shadow  of  care 
Disturbs  her  repose,  yet  fancy  is  there, 
With  her  gay  fairy  visions,  dull  sleep  to  beguile, 
And  dimples  her  cheek  into  many  a  smile. 
Kow  she  bursts  into  laughter,  sweet,  musical,  wild, 
The  joyous,  spontaneous,  laugh  of  a  child. 
O'er    the    couch    of    the    dreamer,   transported    he 
hung, 


8  EVE. 

As  the  future  and  past,  to  oblivion  he  flung ; 

To  annihilate  time,  to  annihilate  space, 

To  dwell  there  forever  in  that  happy  place, 

With  the  halo  of  heaven,  around  him,  for  there 

Its  purity,  innocence,  blessedness  are. 

Oh!    thought  the  enamored,  hadst   thou  but   been 

given, 
I  ne'er  had  revolted  from  virtue  and  heaven! 

One  beautiful  arm,  in  its  posture  of  rest, 
Lay  extended  towards  him ;  his  hot  lips  he  pressed 
On  the  delicate  hand  that  recoiled  from  his  breath, 
And  shrunk   from   his   touch   with   an  instinct  of 
death. 
A  pang  of  deep  anguish,  his  soul  overcame, 
As  he  marked  her  blanched  cheek  and  her  shud- 
dering frame  ; 
Like    a    dove    from    the    fangs    of   an    eagle    that 

springs, 
Her    arms    round    the    neck   of    her    husband    she 

flings ; 
And,  hiding  her  face  in  his  bosom,  she  wept 
Like  an  infant  affrighted,  then  tranquilly  slept. 
New  jealousy,  hatred,  and  vengeance,  and  love, 
The  fiercest  of  passions  for  mastery  strove. 


EVE.  9 

"  Thou  neest  from  me,  woman,  in  terror  and  hate, 
Unknown   thou   abhor'st   me,   and   cling'st    to    thy 

mate  : 
Created  for  Adam,  his  doom  shall  be  thine ; 
Yet  fain  had'  I  spared  thee,  thou  creature  divine  ; 
So  much  of  lost  heaven,  in  thee  did  I  trace, 
So  bright  shone  his  image  of  love  in  thy  face, 
That  hell  was  forgot,  and  I  deemed  for  awhile, 
That  I  dwelt  in  his   presence   and   basked   in   his 

smile. 
The  dreadful  reality  on  me  hath  burst, 
I  am,  yes  I  am,  the  condemned,  the  accurst, 
The  chief  of  apostates,  the  monarch  of  hell : 
Then  to  love  and  to  pity,  forever  farewell; 
They  suit  not  my  purpose,  they  fit  not  my  state. 
Come  all  ye  dark  passions,  that  govern  my  fate  ; 
Come    hatred,   come    vengeance,    your    task    now 

assign 
Away    with     this    struggle.        Now,    hell,    I    am 

thine !" 


10  EVE. 

'Tis  morning  in  Eden:   the  sun's  golden  rays 
Have  burnished  her  mountains ;  her  cataracts  blaze, 
As  in  her  bright  rivers,  their  waters  they  pour,    . 
And  peal  the  deep  anthem  to  him  they  adore. 
How  fresh  is  the  earth,  and  how  gorgeous  the 
skies ! 
They  are  painted  in  nature's  most  exquisite  dyes. 
The  dew-drops,  like  diamonds,  are  glittering  round, 
All  is  beauty,  and  color,  and   motion,  and   sound. 
With  the  herds  on  the  pastures,  the  birds  on  the 

wing, 
Oh !    day  is  a  bright  and  a  glorious  thing ! 
But  a  sunrise  in  Eden,  in  vain  would  I  sine:! 
Then  silence,  my  muse,  nor  presume  to  portray, 
Suffice,  it  is  morning,  and  Eden's  last  day. 

She  springs  from  her  couch,  and  as  light  as  a 
fawn, 
To  lave  her  pure  limbs  in  the  fountain  has  gone. 
She  has  bent  the  meek  knee,  she  has  bowed  the 

bright  head, 
To  the  source  of  her  being,  her  orisons  said, 
And  now  to  the  bower  is  hurrying  fast, 
To  waken  her  lord  and  prepare  his  repast. 


EVE.  11 

"  Why,  Adam,  dear  Adam,"   she  playfully  cries, 
"  All  nature  has  risen,  thou  sluggard,  arise : 
Come,  Adam,  dear  Adam,  enjoy  the  sweet  hour; 
Come,  taste  the  rich  fragrance  that  breathes  from 

the  bower : 
"With  love  and  devotion  each  bosom  is  glowing, 
To  nature's  great  Author,  all  nature  is  bowing. 
The  butterfly  wanders  from  flower  to  flower, 
Pursuing  enjoyment  through  each  fleeting  hour. 
Adown     the    green     meadows     the     silver     tides 

straying, 
While    on    its    fresh    banks,   the    young    lambkins 

are  playing: 
Come,  Adam,  dear  Adam,  enjoy  the  sweet  hour ; 
Come,  taste  the  rich  fragrance  that  breathes  from 

the  bower." 
In  vain,  chanted  Eve,  for  in  slumber  profound, 
His  spirit  is  wrapped,  and  his  senses  are  bound. 


Last  wonder  of  nature !  dear  mother  of  man : 
Earth's    brightest    perfection,    condemn    thee    who 


12  EVE. 

I  see  thee,  I  see  thee  in  paradise  now, 

With  thy  soul-beaming  eyes,  and  thy  radiant  brow; 

Thou  art  sitting  alone  in  thy  favorite  bowers, 

Weaving  a  garland  of  loveliest  flowers. 

The  wreath  thou  hast  hung  on  the  neck  of  a  fawn, 

And   art   watching   the   doe,  as   she   sports  on  the 

lawn. 
Now  the  dashing  cascade  has  arrested  thine  eye, 
Now   the   bloom   of  the    earth,  now   the   hues   of 

the  sky. 
Mark  yon  beautiful  cloud,  as  it  floats  through  the 

air, 
The  tints  of  the  rainbow  are  mingling  there. 
She  deems  it  a  couch,  by  the  Deity  spread, 
For  some  wandering  angel  to  pillow  his  head ; 
Those  kind  guardian  spirits  who  constantly  rove 
On  errands  of  mercy,  on  missions  of  love. 
Yes,  nature  is  lovely,  her  dews  and  her  flowers, 
Her  cool  purling  rills  and  her  green  shady  bowers, 
Her  noble  cascades  and  magnificent  mountains, 
Her    forests    and    glades,   with   their   grottoes   and 

fountains, 
And  lovely  is  night,  when  bright  Cynthia  appears, 
A  young  crescent  moon  amidst  myriads  of  stars ; 


EVE.  13 

But  lovelier  she,  who  with  eloquent  smile, 
On  the  works  of  her  Maker  sits  musing  the  while ; 
Whose  soul-beaming  face  might  to  angels  recall 
The  image  of  him  who  created  them  all. 


His    black    wings   are   folded,   his   arms   they   are 

crossed, 
His  eyes,  all  their  terrible  fierceness  have  lost; 
His  dark,  troubled  visage  is  haggard  with  care, 
And  marked  by  the  deep  sullen  gloom  of  despair : 
He  hath  sworn  to  seduce  her  from  heaven  and  God, 
He  may  not,  he  dare  not,  to  forfeit  his  word; 
For  well  does  he  know,  that  hell's  turbulent  crew, 
Would  exact  its  fulfilment,  and  claim  it  their  due, 
To   strengthen   their   empire.      From   woman   they 

know, 

That  myriads  of  spirits  immortal  shall  flow : 

Of  spirits  immortal,  forever  to  dwell, 

The  children  of  heaven,  or  inmates  of  hell. 

They  have  heard  of  the  mandate,  the  test  of  her 

faith, 
2 


14  EVE. 

And    Satan    hath    sworn    in    his    vengeance    and 

wrath, 
To  seduce  her  from  heaven,  from  God  to  allure, 
And  herself  and  her  race  to  his  kingdom  secure. 
This  brings  him  to  Eden,  and  here  is  he  now, 
His  pledge  to  redeem  and  accomplish  his  vow. 
He  is  standing  before  her  invisible  still, 
And  reluctant  his  terrible  task  to  fulfil ; 
As  the  murderer  feels  who  has  whetted  his  knife 
For  the  sake  of  base  lucre,  to  take  its  sweet  life, 
And  meets  the   fair  child,  as   he   bounds   through 

the  bowers, 
Who    laughs    in   his    face    while    he    proffers   him 

flowers. 
So  Lucifer  felt,  as  he  gazed  on  her  now, 
With  her  warm,   sunny  smile,  and  her  clear  open 

brow ; 
Could   he   steal  the  pure  gem,  could   he   make   it 

his  own. 
Could    he    hide    it    from    hell,    could    he    wear    it 

alone. 
He   had    spared    the    fair    creature,  but    bound    as 

she  is, 
Both  to  heaven  and  man,  she  can  never  be  his; 


EVE.  15 

He  may  blind  her,  seduce  lier,  betray,  and  decoy, 
But  her  love  and  her  faith,  he  can  never  destroy. 
These  are  part  of  her  being,  Jehovah's  own  dower, 
Bestowed  by  his  love,  at  her  blest  natal  hour; 
Her  heart  is  as  true  as  the  steel  to  the  pole ; 
He  knows  it,  and  feels  'tis  beyond  his  control. 
As  we  gaze  upon  childhood's  sweet  innocent  face, 
And  feel  it  is  doomed  to  the  ills  of  its  race ; 
That  soon  must  the  traces  of  sorrow  and  care, 
Be  written  in  legible  characters  there; 
That  the  embryo  passions  but  sleep  in  the  breast, 
For  time  to  awaken  to  banish  its  rest ; 
Like  serpents  in  winter,  though  torpid  they  lie. 
Shall  find  all  their  venom  as  summer  draws  nigh ; 
That  the  young  guileless  spirit,  too  soon  must  explore, 
The  dark  volume  of  life,  and  imbibe  its  base  lore. 
What  an  interest  deep,  what  an  interest  strange, 
Does    the    pure    and    frail    being,    so    quickly   to 

change, 
Excite  in  our  bosoms,  for  well  do  we  know, 
How  brief  is  its  respite  from  sin  and  from  woe ! 

So  Lucifer  felt,  as  he  gazed  on  the  flower, 
He   has   sworn   thus   to   blight   and    destroy  in  an 

hour. 


16  EVE. 

What  terrible  change  has  passed  over  him  now? 
Why  flashes  his  eye,  and  why  lours  his  brow  ? 
'Tis  a  concert  of  angels,  his  own  chosen  band, 
He  led  them  in  heaven,  when  high  in  command  ; 
Once  those  ravishing  tones  could  devotion  inspire, 
And  feed  in  his  bosom  all  love's  holy  fire; 
Now  they  breathe  malediction,  and  vengeance,  and 

ire. 
So  thought  .the  condemned,  as  the  sounds  once  so 

dear, 
Fell  heavy  and  sad,  like  a  knell  on  his  ear; 
Perhaps  to  expel  him  from  Eden,  they  come, 
And  drive  him  in  shame  to  his  desolate  home ; 
To  that  region  of  woe,  to  that  frightful  abode, 
Of  spirits  that  live  in  rebellion  with  God. 
Shall   he   leave   her   to   heaven,  in   her  innocence 

there  ? 
Shall  he  leave  her  to  Adam?     A  look  of  despair 
He  casts  upon  Eve,  when  there  rang  in  his  ears, 
The  hisses  of  hell,  its  mockings  and  jeers, 
The    laugh   of    her   fiends,   with   their  taunts   and 

their  sneers, 
And  Adam  approaching  with  pride  in  his  port, 
And  a  look  of  defiance,  (so  Lucifer  thought,) 


EVE.  17 

The  conflict  is  over.     The  trial  to  make 

He  assumes  in  a  moment  the  form  of  a  snake, 

And  gliding  beside  her,  he  silently  came 

And    in   voice   soft    and   dulcet    he   murmurs    her 

name. 
Surprised,  but  not  fearful,  she  gazes  around, 
To  learn  who  had  called,  and  whence  issued  the 

sound, 
When,  lo  !    at  her  feet  lay  in  many  a  fold, 
A  serpent  all  glitt'ring  with  emerald  and  gold! 
She  fears  not  the  serpent,  for  oft  had  she  lain 
On   the   fierce   tiger's   head,   and   the   lion's   rough 

mane, 
Her  delicate  hand,  as  around  her  they'd  press, 
To  share  her  sweet  smile  and  her  gentle  caress, 
As  if  proud  that  a  creature  so  pure  and  divine. 
Her  heavenly  nature  with  theirs  should  combine. 


Twas  hard  for  a  spirit  so  guileless  and  sweet 
With  hell's  crafty  monarch  alone  to  compete. 
A  stranger  to  falsehood,  a  stranger  to  guile: 


9* 


18  EVE. 

Alone  and  unwary  with  the  false  and  the  vile, 
The  dark,  dismal  future  is  hid  from  her  sight 
By  a  curtain  as  dense  as  original  night. 
She    dreams    not     of    leaguing    with     Satan,    nor 

knows 
That  such  being  exists.     To  the  ills  and  the  woes 
That  she  brings  on  her  race  she  is  equally  blind, 
She  feels  not  for  kindred,  she  knows  not  of  kind. 
These  relatives  are  not :    for  Adam  alone 
And  the  God  of  her  being  to  woman  are  known. 
She  is  not  a  mother,  she  never  has  pressed 
Her  young  feeble  babe  to  her  fostering  breast; 
Ne'er  watched  o'er  its  cradle,  or  wept  o'er  its  bier, 
Nor  heard  its  sweet  laugh,  nor  removed  its  bright 

tear. 
Guilt,  sorrow,  and  pain  are  unknown  e'en  by  name, 
No  pang  has  invaded  her  soul  or  her  frame ; 
Her  sweet,  brief  existence  is  made  up  alone 
Of  rapturous  feeling,  no  other  is  known 
With  Eden  around  her  and  heaven  above, 
With  the  God  of  her  being  and  Lord  of  her  love, 
What  conception  had  she,  though  we  image  them 

well, 
Of  the  terrors  of  death,  or  the  horrors  of  hell? 


EVE.  19 


And  she  is  alone  with  that  treacherous  one 
Who  half  of  her  sons  from  high  heaven  had  won, 
That  terrible  being  who  menaced  the  throne 
Of  the  mighty  Jehovah;   and  she  is  alone. 
Was  there  no  gentle  spirit  to  whisper,  "  Dear  Eve, 
'Tis  the  cruel  arch-fiend  who  has  come  to  deceive 
And  his  poison  to  pour  in  thy  credulous  ear, 
Beware  of  the  serpent,  'tis  Satan,  beware  !" 


"That  thou  art  not  a  serpent,"  responded  fair  Eve, 
"That  thou  art  not  a  serpent  I  well  can  believe, 
Then  ill  it  befits  that  a  son  of  the  sky, 
In  the  form  of  a  serpent  thus  lowly  should  lie 
At  my  feet.      I   beseech  thee   throw  off  thy  dis- 
guise, 
Resume  thine  own  nature,  blest  child  of  the  skies." 
At  once  an  archangel  in  glory  arrayed 


20  EVE. 

And  resplendent  in  beauty,  his  form  he  displayed, 
And  bending  before  her  with  reverence  meet 
"  Permit  me,  bright  queen  of  fair  Eden,  to  greet 
The  mother  of  angels,  whose  race  shall  arise 
To  inherit  the  heavens  and  people  the  skies." 
With   strange  mixed   emotions,  unknown   till   that 

hour, 
She  gazed  on  the  dreadful  but  beautiful  power, 
Admiration,  and  terror,  and  wonder,  and  awe, 
Had  fettered  her  senses :   it  seemed  as  some  law 
Of  her  nature  was  broken  !     As  the  angel  of  death. 
With  his  cold  icy  hand,  had  suspended  her  breath. 
Why  trembles  fair  woman  ?     What  has  she  to  fear 
From  a  son  of  her  Maker  ?  approaching  more  near. 
And  then  with  a  voice  whose  sweet  magical  spell 
Had  been  tested  in  heaven  and  proven  in  hell, 
He  allures  her  in  converse,  her  terror  has  fled 
And    the    dark,   fearful    being    no   more    does   she 

dread ! 
"And  art  thou  an  angel?"  she  eagerly  cried, 
"Descended  from  heaven?"     "I  am,"  he  replied. 
Descended  from  heaven,  and  oft  have  I  trod 
Yon   star-spangled    dome,    and    the   courts    of    thy 

God  !" 


EVE.  21 

But  once  had  she  seen  her  Creator,  'twas  when 
She  awoke  into  being,  and  ever  since  then, 
Like  a  child  for  its  mother,  her  spirit  had  yearned 
Again  to  behold  him.     Wherever  she  turned 
She  met  his  fond  gaze  as  delighted  he  smiled 
On  his  glorious  work,  his  own  beautiful  child ! 

That  glance  of  communion,  had  kindled  the  flame 
Of  sacred  devotion  that  glowed  in  her  frame. 

Now  Satan  descants  on  the  goodness  of  God, 
On  the  splendor  and  joys  of  his  blessed  abode, 
Of  the  cherubim  corps,  and  the  seraphim  band 
That  round  their  Creator  eternally  stand, 
Making  vocal  the  heavens  as  loudly  they  sing 
Their  glad  hallelujahs  to  heaven's  great  King. 

With  breathless  emotion  enraptured  she  hung 
On  the  music  that  flowed  from  his  eloquent  tongue, 
Oh !   never  before  unto  mortal  was  given 
So  rich  and  so  glowing  a  picture  of  heaven ! 

How  lovely  she  looks  as  her  beautiful  eyes 
In  fervent  devotion  are  raised  to  the  skies, 
As  if  list'ning  expectant  each  moment  to  hear 
The  harps  of  its  seraphs  saluting  her  ear. 

Fierce  Lucifer  turned  in  contrition  away. 
Almost  was  he  tempted  to  kneel  and  to  pray ; 


22  EVE. 

For  he  deemed  that  e'en  lie  might  elicit  a  sio-h. 
From   those  love-breathing  lips  and  that   merciful 

eye. 
But  he  thought  of  his  legions,  and  groaned  as  he 

thought 
Of  the  shame  and  perdition  his  treason  had  brought 
On  his  recreant  host.     Then  he  thought  of  his  vow, 
And  resolved  to  fulfil  it,  though  terrible  now 
Seemed   the    task   that    his   vengeance   and   wrath 

had  assigned. 
"  I    am   sworn,"  he  exclaimed,  "  and   my  promise 

must  bind ; 
Whate'er  be  my  feelings  I  dare  not  rebel, 
No,  not  traitor  to  heaven  and  traitor  to  hell. 
Sweet   woman,"   he   cried,    "  I    have   known   thee 

too  late, 
And  thy  ruin,  fair  creature,  is  part  of  my  fate." 
Thus  speaking   he   turned,  and  with  treacherous 
smile 
Sought  his  innocent  prey  to  seduce  and  beguile. 
The  tempter  has  triumphed,  and  she  would  be  one 
Of  those  glorious  beings  who  circle  the  throne 
<  >f  the  mighty  Jehovah  most  blest,  while  she  pours 
Her  tribute  of  praise  to  the  God  she  adores, 


EYE.  28 

And  earth  seems  a  dark  and  a  desolate  spot, 
And  her  once  cherished  Eden  and  Adam  forgot. 
Her  mind  he  has  dazzled,  her  spirit  has  torn 
From    its    own    proper    sphere,    and    aloft    it    has 

borne 
From  the  circle  her  Maker  had  wisely  assigned 
To  move  in  an  orbit  he  never  designed. 

She  panteth  for  heaven,  for  wisdom  she  sighs, 
On   the  wings   of  the  seraphs  would  traverse  the 

skies. 
He  tenders  her  heaven,  that  blessed  abode 
The  dwelling  of  angels,  the  home  of  her  God ; 
He  tenders  her  wisdom,  the  power  of  thought, 
That  from  a  wide  chaos  the  universe  wrought ; 

O  7 

He  tells  her  that  wisdom  creation  had  planned 

And  guided  Jehovah's  victorious  hand ; 

He  tells  her  the  mandate  to  Adam  was  given 

And  never  designed  to  exclude  her  from  heaven  ; 

He  tells  her  her  body  is  formed  of  the  sod, 

But  her  soul  is  a  part  of  the  life-giving  God, 

Immortal,  eternal,  forever  the  same, 

A  spark  of  Jehovah's  ethereal  flame 

That  death  cannot  conquer,  or  injure,  and  may 

But  set  the  soul  free  from  its  prison   of  clay, 


24  EVE. 

Unshackle  the  spirit,  unfetter  the  mind, 
And  make  it  as  tree  as  the  wandering  wind. 

He  presents  the  temptation,  but  proffers  in  vain, 
For  woman  will  true  to  her  duty  remain. 
"The  fruit  is  delicious,  what  pity,"  he  cried, 
"That  this  banquet  of  angels  to  man  is  denied." 
Again  he  presents  it,  but  proffers  in  vain, 
For  woman  will  true  to  her  duty  remain. 

Once  more  he  essays.      "Wouldst  thou  be  like 
thy  Lord, 
The  mighty  Jehovah,  the  blessed,  the  adored? 
'Twill    make   thee   a  goddess  !"       Poor   credulous 

Eve! 
Ah !   well  might  the  traitor  the  novice  deceive  ! 
His  eloquent  lips  had  led  angels  astray, 
And  borne  from  their  Maker  e'en  seraphs  away ! 

The  tempter  has  triumphed,  the  mandate  is  broke, 
And  Eve  and  her  race  have  come  under  his  yoke, 
And  proud  of  his  conquest  is  Lucifer  gone 
To  proclaim  in  his  kingdom  the  victory  won. 


VICTORIA.  25 


VICTORIA. 

WRITTEN    WHEN    VICTORIA    BECAME    QUEEN    OF    ENGLAND. 

Stoops  then  a  daughter  of  the  eagle's  land 

In  servile  adulation  to  a  throne  ? 
Scatters  she  incense  with  a  lavish  hand? 

Plays  she  the  laureate  to  Britannia's  crown? 
She  of  the  rigid  sect  that  claim  to  stand 
Erect  before  the  sov'reigns  of  the  land, 
And  never  bow  the  head  or  bend  the  knee 
To  any  other  than  the  Deity. 

Rebuke  me  not,  stern  spirits  of  my  sires, 

Not  less  than  ye  I  scorn  the  venal  muse: 
Then  if  Victoria's  name  my  lay  inspires 

Rebuke  me  till  I  my  theme  excuse. 
'Tis  not  the  crown  that  glitters  on  her  brow, 
'Tis  the  young  brow  it  circles  moves  me  now 
'Tis  not  the  monarch  in  her  form  I  meet, 
3 


26  VICTORIA. 

It  is  my  sister  woman  whom  I  greet, 
And  bid  her  welcome  to  her  royal  seat, 
Britannia's  throne,  and  may  Victoria's  tame 
Shed  a  fresh  lustre  upon  woman's  name  ! 

Spirit  of  by-gone  ages,  is't  thou  hast  past 

And  touched  me  with  thy  magic  wand  ? 
"Waking  my  soul  to  sympathize  at  last 

With  what  my  stricter  creed  would  countermand, 
.Rekindling  all  the  romance  of  my  youth, 

Bidding  me  dream  of  chivalry  and  love, 
Of  ladies'  scarfs  and  belted  knights  in  sooth, 

Of  the  couched  lance,  and  of  the  gauntlet  glove. 
Fill'd  with  these  images  of  auld  lang  syne 
I  sank  to  slumber.     And  but  yestere'en, 
Transformed  by  potent  fancy,  I  became 
The  queen  of  fairy  land  ;    the   elfin  queen 
Titania ;   and  was  holding  my  levee 
Beneath  the  shade  of  a  magnolia  tree. 

Sweet  was  the  sylvan  scene  :  the  crescent  moon 
In  tender  radiance  o'er  the  landscape  shone, 
The  heavens  were  calm  and  bright,  and  softly  smiled, 
Like  a  fond   mother  on  darling  child  her, 


VICTORIA.  27 

And  earth  returned  that  smile  as  forth  she  sent 
Her  joyous  voices  to  the  firmament ; 
The  sparkling  waters  as  they  murmured  o'er 
Proclaimed  their  gladness  to  the  pebhled  shore, 
The  mock-bird  told  it  as  his  song  uprose 
From  the  crape  myrtle  and  the  laurel  rose, 
And  midst  the  polished  leaves  and  snowy  bloom, 
Where  the  sweet  orange  shed  her  rich  perfume, 
The  humming-bird,  that  tiny,  lovely  thing 
•Flitting  from  flower  to  flower  with  restless  wing, 
Sucks  the  nectarian  dew,  then  turns  and  sips 
Ambrosial   sweets  from  the  rich  crimson  lips 
Of  cypress  flowers,  and  ever  and  anon, 
Couches  among  the  leaves,  then  like  a  flash  is  gone. 

Myriads  of  glittering  moths,  the  fire-fly  throng, 
Spangle  tfie  air,  and  gleam  the  trees  among, 
Like  children  of  the  stars,  they  look  to  be 
Sent  to  partake  of  earth's  festivity. 

The  winds  were  hushed  to  sleep,  save  only  one 
Young  zephyr  who  was  sallying  forth  alone, 
Amorous  of  night,  passing  his  winged  hours 
Kissing  the  buds,  stealing  the  breath  of  flowers ; 
Sure  such  a  night  to  erring  man  was  given 
To  call  his  wandering  spirit  back  to  heaven  ! 


28  VICTORIA. 

But  what  of  fairy  land  ?    what  of  the  throne 
Of  fair  Titania  and  her  Oberon? 

Around  the  court  there  was  a  rampart  wall 
Composed  of  snowy  pebbles  round  and  small ; 
Within  'twas  paved  with  shining  isinglass 
O'er  which  the  fays  do  to  their  palace  pass, 
A  Grecian  temple  seemed  the  elfin  hall, 
So  classic  was  its  structure,  and  withal, 
So  much  of  grace  and  symmetry  displayed. 
Its  floor  was  rich  mosaic,  and  inlaid 
With  tiny  shells,  the  sable  and  the  bright 
Making  a  tapis  lovely  to  the  sight ; 
Of  pearly  shell  was  formed  the  outer  wall, 
Composed  of  naker,  or  what  we  call 
Mother-of-pearl ;   the  pillars  of  the  throne 
Were  coral,  and  for  canopy  there  shone" 
A  burnished  shell  that  the  warm  sun  had  kissed 
And  left  his  glorious  image  there  impressed, 
So  rosy  and  so  varied  were  its  dyes 
It  looked  the  sunset  of  our  southern  skies, 
Its  curtains  were  the  wings  of  butterflies. 

Such  was  the  elfin  palace,  such  the  throne 
Of  fair  Titania  and  her  Oberon. 


VICTORIA.  29 

They  meet  not  now  a  "  culprit  fay"   to  try 
For  basking  in  the  beam  of  beauty's  eye  ; 
But  weighty  matters  and  affairs  of  state 
Engage  their  senate  in  a  grave  debate, 
For  know,  their  elfin  majesties  have  been 
Sponsors  to  young  Florilla,  England's  queen ! 
Florilla,  the  beloved  of  fairy  land  ! 
Who  doth  the  homage  of  each  heart  command 
Too  early  culled  a  coronet  to  wear, 
And  her  young  mind  the  toils  of  state  to  share  ; 
Ere  sage  experience  had  informed  her  mind 
With  knowledge   of  herself  or  of  mankind. 
To  guard  her  from  the  evils  that  beset 
Her  youth  and  innocence  to-day  have  met 
The  elfin .  council,   and  they  now  bestow 
A  wondrous  amulet  with  power  to  show 
The  faithless  friend,  and  mark  the  secret  foe  ! 

To-night  Titania  to  the  court  repairs, 
And  to  the  queen  the  magic  jewel  bears. 

But  see  !    with  drooping  wing  and  downcast  eye 
A  pensive  stranger  to  the  throne   draws  nigh. 
An  empty  quiver  o'er  his  shoulder  flung, 
A  torch  extinguished,  and  a  bow  unstrung, 


30  VICTORIA. 

Proclaim  the  once  puissant  god  of  love, 
Long  doomed  in  weary  banishment  to  rove. 

With  a  face  beaming  with  surprise  and  joy, 
Titania  thus  accosts  the  hapless  boy : 
"  Son  of  the  Cyprian  goddess !   is  it  thou  ? 
Ah,  ever  welcome,  never  more  than  now  ; 
Long  have  we  wept  thy  destiny  unknown, 
And  mourned  thy  absence  from  our  elfin  throne." 

To  whom  thus  Cupid  answered,  "  It  is  sweet 
In  dark  adversity  such  friends  to  meet ; 
Friends  whom  the  power  of-  fortune  ne'er  estranged, 
Faithful  in  love,  incapable  of  change  ; 
Such  kindly  greeting  from  my  old  allies 
Gladdens  my  heart  and  bids  my  courage  rise. 

"  Long  have  I  been  a  wanderer  of  the  wild, 
By  cruel  Yulcan  from  my  home  exiled ; 
The  haughty  monarch  rules  and  reigns  alone, 
My  shrine   dishonors,  and  usurps  my  throne, 
My  empire  lost  and  all  my  rights  denied, 
My  power  derided  and  my  rage  defied. 
No  more  do  minstrels  chaunt  of  beauty's  charms, 
Of  deeds  of  valor,  or  the  clash   of  arms  ; 
No,  nothing  now  is  heard  but  hissing  stea?n1 
And  cars  and  railroads  form  the  constant  theme. 


VICTORIA.  81 

Fancy  is  banished  from  her  bright  domain, 
And  love  and  chivalry  have  ceased  to  reign. 
Mourning  my  wretched  fate  but  yestere'en, 
I  learned  that  ye  were  sponsors  to  the  queen, 
Then  smiling  hope  returned  and  bade  me  fly 
And   claim  your  interest  with  her  majesty. 
Shall  youth  and  beauty  o'er  the  scene  preside, 
And  lovely  woman  be   the  nation's  guide, 
And  exiled  love  in  banishment  repine, 
Mourning  his  throne  usurped,  his  ruined  shrine  V 

To  whom  with  lowering  brow  and  flashing  eye 
Indignant  Oberon  did  thus  reply  : 
"  Cupid,  thy  wrongs  are  ours,  behold  they  chase 
From  ev'ry  sylvan  scene  the  fairy  race, 
No  more  their  children  learn  our  fairy  lore, 
No  !    all  communion  with  our  race  is  o'er, 
No  more  they  come  our  bounteous  gifts  to  claim, 
No  more  as  sponsors  to  their  babes  they  name 
Our  elfln  people.      Saving  one  alone, 
The  youthful  monarch  of  Britannia's  throne  ; 
Whate'er  of  influence  to  our  court  belongs 
Shall  be  exerted  to  redress  thy  wrongs." 


32  VICTORIA. 

Scarce  had  lie  spoke,  when  lo  !   the  tinkling  bell 
And  booming  gun  dissolved  the  magic  spell. 
The  charm  is  broken,  and  the  dream  is  o'er, 
Florilla  and  Titania  are  no  more  ! 
Where  is  my  elfin  palace  ?   where  my  throne  ? 
And  where  my  fairy  courtiers  \    all  are  gone  ! 
Upon  my  couch  I  find  myself  alone, 
And  in  a  land  where  monarchs  are  unknown. 

Xo  liege  art  thou  of  mine,  and  yet,  my  heart 
Doth  claim  in  thee  a  portion  and  a  part, 
For  thou  art  woman,  and  her  sacred  fame 
Is  linked  forever  with  Victoria's  name. 
Then  hail,  young  queen,  and  may  thy  reign  decide 
How  safely  man  to  woman  may  confide 
The  mightiest  trust !     How  faithful  she  can  prove, 
And  with  what  anxious  care  and  jealous  love 
She  guards  her  charge.     Long  may  thy  people  feel 
Thy  deep  devotion  to  thy  country's  weal ! 

I  have  no  amulet  to  give  thee  now, 
To  mark  the  treacherous  friend  and  crafty  toe, 
To  teach  thee  whom  to  trust  and  whom  to  shun, 
My  power  is  gone,  my  elfin  race  is  run. 


VICTORIA.  33 

Our  lands  have  measured  sabres,  and  each  knows 
The  other's  valor.     Long  may  they  repose 
Within  their  scabbards  !     Wherefore  meet  as  foes  ? 
As  states  divided  ?  but  with  many  a  link 
Unbroken  still.     Alike  we  feel  and  think. 
Brothers  by  nature  :   from  one  fount  we  draw 
Our  lineage,  language,  literature,  and  law, 
A  kindred  people.     Wherefore  meet  we  foes? 
Then  let  the  sabre  in  its  sheath  repose, 
There's  glory  for  us  both :   glory  for  mine 
That  she's  descended  from  a  race  like  thine, 
And  for  thy  England,  that  the  fair,  the  young, 
The  blessed  Columbia  from  herself  hath  sprung. 
Florilla,  love,  farewell,  as  thy  marraine 
Invoke  I  many  a  blessing  on  thy  reign, 
Glory  for  thee  and  safety  for  thy  state; 
Long  may  she  prove  the  happy  and  the  great. 
But  hark !    the  bell  has  tolled  the  matin  bell, 
My  hour  has  past,  Victoria,  queen,  farewell. 


34  woman's    love 


WOMAN'S    LOVE. 

Oh  !    woman's  heart  is  love's  own  soil, 

And  well  the  beauteous  plant  will  thrive, 
No  pale  exotic  reared  with  toil 

And  kept  by  constant  care  alive. 
It  is  no  bright  ephenvral  flower 

That  lives  but  in  the  sunny  ray, 
The  transient  beauty  of  an  hour 

That  passes  with  the  beam  away. 

'Tis  balsam,  all  its  balmy  breath, 

No  subtle  poison  lurketh  there  ; 
It  has  no  canker  in  its  leaf, 

But  blooms  forever  sweet  and  fair. 
It  closest  clings  when  fortune  flings 

Her  deadly  venom  on  the  gale, 
And  brightest  glows  midst  scenes  of  woe, 

When  sickness,  want,  and  care  assail. 


35 


Oh  !    then  'twill  shine  with  light  divine, 

Throwing  its  balsam  all  around, 
Its  tender  smile  will  grief  beguile 

And  heal  or  soften  every  wound. 
Sorrow  and  pain  assault  in  vain, 

Chill  penury  and  cold  disdain, 
For  still  'twill  bloom  through  thickest  gloom. 

Within  the  dungeon,  o'er  the  tomb. 

When  passion's  blast,  hath  o'er  it  passed 

And  scattered  all  its  bloom  away ; 
Or  some  rude  stroke  its  stem  hath  broke, 

And,  trodden  in  the  dust,  it  lay ; 
You  deem  it  dead,  its  spirit  fled, 

And  mourn  perhaps  the  perished  flower, 
But  'tis  not  death.     Affection's  breath 

Can  wake  again  each  dormant  power; 
'Twill  softly  rise  'neath  loving  eyes 

And  put  its  tender  beauties  forth ; 
Again  'twill  cling  round  that  base  thing 

That  crushed  it  in  an  hour  of  wrath. 

All-suff 'ring,  all-enduring  spirit ! 
Thy  gentleness  and  fortitude 


36  woman's    love. 

Might  well  a  brighter  clime  inherit 

Than  this  cold  world  so  bleak  and  rude. 
But  flower  of  love  in  woman's  heart, 
Immortal  as  the  soul  thou  art, 
And  with  that  soul  shalt  thou  arise, 
Triumphant  to  thy  natal  skies. 


TO     ZEPHYR.  37 


TO    ZEPHYR. 


Go,  zephyr  dear, 

Breathe  in  his  ear 
How  fond,  how  warm  I  love  him  ; 

In  accents  sweet 

Thy  tale  repeat; 
To  gentle  pity  move  him. 

ii. 

Say  that  a  tender,  faithful  heart 
For  him  in  secret  sighing ; 

Blushing  conceals  the  venomed  dart 
And  of  the  wound  is  dying. 


38  TO     ZEPHYR. 


m. 

Oh!    tell  him  thou  hast  seen  the  war 
'Twixt  angry  love  and  virgin  pride, 

Seen  her  pale  cheek  bedewed  with  tears, 
And  then  in  crimson  blushes  dyed. 

rv. 

Nay,  zephyr,  nay, 

Sweet  truant,  stay, 
Thou  shalt  not  my  fond  heart  betray, 
For  hark!    a  spirit  calm  and  mild 
Forbids  the  mission,  fairy  child  ; 
'Tis  female  modesty  divine  ; 
My  guardian  angel,  it  is  thine. 

Nay,  zephyr,  nay, 

Sweet  truant,  stay, 
Thou  shalt  not  my  fond  heart  betray. 


LINES     TO     EDWIN.  39 


LINES    TO    EDWIN. 

Thou  striv'st  in  vain,  love's  broken  chain 

No  art  of  thine  can  link  again ; 

Not  all  the  powers  of  earth  and  heaven 

Could  tear  its  tender  links  apart, 
But  thou  the  living  chords  hast  riven, 

It  bled  and  died  in  ev'iy  part ; 
Then  give  the  useless  struggle  o'er, 

'Tis  vain  to  bid  the  dead  revive ; 
Departed  spirits  come  no  more, 

Then  why  should  hope  the  grave  survive  ? 


40  TO     MY     DEAREST     FRIEND. 


TO    MY   DEAKEST    FKIEND. 

Let  angry  fate  her  shafts  employ, 
Her  poisoned  arrows  harmless  fly, 

They  cannot  pierce  the  shield  of  love, 
Or  wound  the  heart  when  thou  art  nigh. 


■^j 


The  worldling  may  desert  our  cot, 
To  wealthier  mansions  rove, 

But  partners  of  our  humble  lot 
Are  innocence  and  love. 

No  guests  are  these  of  low  degree, 
Our  inmates  are  from  heaven, 

And  shall  we  want  society 
When  such  as  these  are  given? 


TO     MY     DEAREST     FRIEND.  41 

Dear  Edwin,  let  the  venal  crew 

Desert  our  shattered  bark, 
Whilst  love,  our  pilot  firm  and  true, 

Conducts  us  through  the  dark. 

His  heavenly  lamp  will  lend  its  light 

When  darkest  tempests  lour, 
And  through  misfortune's  stormy  night, 

Will  prove  a  guardian  power. 

Then,  Edwin  dear,  thy  spirits  cheer, 

Nor  dread  impending  pain, 
The  storms  of  fate  will  soon  abate, 

And  fortune  smile  again. 

4* 


42  TO     A     SCEPTIC. 


TO    A    SCEPTIC. 

Cease,  sceptic,  cease,  nor  in  mine  ear 

Thy  hated  doctrine  pour, 
I  would  not  for  the  wealth  of  worlds 

Imbibe  thy  wretched  lore. 

Why  should  I  my  blest  faith  resign, 
My  faith  of  hope  and  bliss, 

To  take  thy  dark,  revolting  creed 
Of  dust  and  nothingness? 

Why  should  I  launch  my  little  bark 

Upon  life's  stormy  sea, 
Without  a  star  her  path  to  mark 

Or  guide  her  destiny  ? 


TO     A     SCEPTIC.  48 

Oh!   not  to  Keason's  fitful  gleam 

Trust  I  her  dangerous  way  ; 
Too  often  passion's  pliant  slave, 

She  leads  the  soul  astray. 

Sweet  Faith,  be  thou  my  guiding  star, 

Hope  shall  my  anchor  be, 
My  pilot,  thou  whose  voice  did  calm 

The  wild  and  stormy  sea. 

My  spirit  hails  fair  nature's  Lord, 

And  claims  him  as  her  own, 
And  honors  and  reveres  his  word, 

And  worships  at  his  throne. 

My  soul  rejoices  in  his  strength, 

And  glories  in  his  power; 
And  finds  in  his  omnipotence 

Protection  ev'ry  hour. 

Corruption  and  the  worm.     Poor  man, 

Is  such  thy  final  doom? 
Well  may  the  spirit  shudder 

O'er  the  horrors  of  the  tomb. 


44  TO     A     SCEPTIC. 

To  fester  iu  a  loathsome  grave, 

In   dark  oblivion  rot, 
To  be  as  though  we  ne'er  had  been 

By  all  of  earth  forgot. 

To  know  the  glorious  sun  again 
Shall  gladden  earth  and  skies, 

But  not  a  beam  of  his  shall  fall 
Upon  our  darkened  eyes. 

That  ev'ry  noble  faculty 
Of  feeling  and  of  thought, 

Must  be  by  death's  relentless  hand 
Again  consigned  to  naught. 

And   the  poor  tendrils  of  the  heart, 
Shall  they,  too,  prostrate  lie 

On  the  cold  earth  ?   nor  find  a  friend 
To  raise  them  to  the  sky  ? 

Hope's  angel  voice  be  heard  no  more, 

Benignant  faith,  too,  fled, 
And  love  in  anguish   and   despair 

Wail  o'er  her  cherished  dead  ? 


TO     A     SCEPTIC.  45 

Art  thou  a  dream,  my  blessed  faith? 

Stay,  bright  illusion,  stay. 
Oh !   may  I  never  wake  to  know 

The  dread  reality ! 

To  know  that  man  is  but  a  worm, 

The  creature  of  a  breath, 
To  give  the  grave  the  victory, 

Again  its  sting  to  death. 

Sweet  virtue,  has  she  then  no  stay? 

Are  all  her  hopes  betrayed? 
Shall  bare-faced  vice  walk  unabashed, 

Unstricken,  undismayed  ? 

Is  there  no  arm  to  smite  the  proud, 

To  lay  the  oppressor  low  ? 
Shall  struggling  virtue  find  no  shield 

To  guard  her  from  her  foe? 

Shall  duty's  thorny  path  be  trod, 

The  well-fought  battle  won? 
Is  there  no  wreath  to  deck  the  brave 

For  deeds  of  valor  done  ? 


46  TO    A    SCEPTIC. 

Has  man  no  righteous  Judge  on  high 

To  whom  he  may  appeal? 
Is  there  no  ear  to  hear  his  cry, 

No  heart  his  wrongs  to  feel? 

Peace,  peace,  my  soul,  thy  Saviour  lives, 

Jehovah  reigns  on  high ; 
There  is  a  heart  to  feel  thy  woes, 

An  ear  to  hear  thy  cry. 

Then   in  thine   anguish,  oh,  my  soul, 

Unto  thy  God  complain ! 
The  noblest  instinct  given  to  man 

Was  ne'er  bestowed  in  vain. 

And  he  shall  answer  to  thy  call, 

Bid  ev'ry  sorrow  cease, 
Calm  thy  sad  spirit's  agony, 

And  hush  thy  cares  to  peace. 

Then,  sceptic,   cease,  nor  in  mine  ear 

Thy  hated  doctrine  pour, 
I  would  not  for  a  thousand  worlds 

Imbibe  thy  wretched  lore. 


TO     A     SCEPTIC.  47 

But  rather,  sceptic,  bow  with  me 

Before  Jehovah's  throne, 
Casting  thine  unbelief  away, 

Making  my  faith  thine  own. 

Then  feel  that  peace  the  world  ne'er  gave, 

Nor  e'er  can  take  away, 
And  own  how  sweet  it  is  to  love, 

To  hope,  to  trust,  to  pray. 


48  LINES    FOR    NEW    YEAR'S    DAY. 


LINES  FOE  NEW  YEAE'S  DAY. 

Child  of  the  spoiler,  is  it  meet 

That  we  thine  entry  now  should  greet 

With  mirth,  and  song,  and  music  sweet, 

Our  direst  foe, 
The  fell  destroyer  of  our  race, 
Leaving  us  no  abiding  place, 
And  of  the  mighty  scarce  a  trace  ? 

No,  tyrant,  no. 
Oh,  hadst  thou  to  the  form  confined 
The  ravage  of  thy  hand  unkind, 
Nor  to  the  regions  of  the  mind 

Brought  ruin's  doom, 
Laid  the  fair  fields  of  fancy  waste, 
Marred  the  bright  visions  of  the  past, 
And  o'er  the  heart  and  spirit  cast 

A  sad'ning  gloom ; 


LINES    ON    NEW     YEAR'S    DAY.  49 

The  rosy  cheek,  the  sparkling  eye, 
The  polished  forehead  pure  and  high, 
And  the  rich  clustering  locks  that  deck 
The  fair  round  cheek  and  downy  neck, 
These  are  thy  thefts,  purloiner,  let  them  pass, 
I  with  a  sigh  resign  them ;   and  the  glass 
Eeflects  a  faded  image  ;   be  it  so. 


"  Que  voulez  vous,"  our  friends  the  French  would 

say, 
E'en  let  the  treasured  shadows  pass  away. 

5 


50  TO     MY     COUNTRY. 


TO    MY    COUNTBY, 

ON      THE      FOURTH      OF      JULY. 

All  hail!   it  is  thy  natal  day, 

And  I,  with  love  sincere, 
Have  come  my  fealty  to  pay 

To  thee,  my  mother  dear. 
My  mother  dear,  thy  natal  clay, 

With  what  deep  interest  fraught! 
How  full  of  thrilling  memories ! 

What  glorious  theme  for  thought ! 
Fair  suffering  freedom  gave  thee  birth, 

Yalor  thy  sponsor  stood, 
And  thy  first  cry  was  "liberty!" 

Thy  baptism  was  blood. 
The  brave,  the  generous,  and  the  good, 

Poured  forth  their  blood  like  rain, 


TO     MY     COUNTRY.  51 

And  valiant  spirits  round  thee  stood 

Th}'  being  to  sustain. 
My  grandsire  died  to  make  thee  free, 

He  died  his  love  to  prove, 
And  to  his  children  he  bequeathed 

A  heritage  of  love  ; 
And  thou  hast  ever  been  my  pride, 

A  thing  more  truly  dear 
Than  ev'ry  earthly  tie  beside 

However  fond  or  near. 
Thy  daughter  may  no  trophy  bring, 

To  her  no  power  is  given ; 
On  earth  she  may  not  plead  the  thee, 

But  she  will  plead  to  heaven. 
Oh!    thou  that  guid'st  the  destiny 

Of  nations,  hear  my  prayer, 
And  make  my  well-beloved  land 

Thy  most  peculiar  care  ; 
Thy  wisdom  to  her  councils  lend, 

And  in  the  bloody  field 
Be  thou  her  captain,  Lord  of  hosts, 

Her  buckler  and  her  shield  ; 
And  should  she  from  thy  counsels  stray, 

Thv  mercies  all  forgot, 


52  TO     MY     COUNTRY. 

Oh !  father,  cast  her  not  away, 

Dear  Lord,  forsake  her  not ; 
But  in  her  hour  of  sin  and  shame, 

E'en  if  she  must  be  smitten, 
Smite  with  a  father's  pitying  love, 

Not  in  the  wrath  of  Heaven ; 
And  having  curbed  her  stubborn  will, 

And  her  transgression  o'er, 
Place  her  beneath  thy  guardian  wing, 

And  bless  her  evermore. 


HYMN.  53 


HYMN. 

Ay  aunt  !   ye  carking  cares  of  life, 

Nor  enter  this  divine  abode, 
But  leave  the  spirit  to  commune 

In  silence  with  the  living  God ! 

For  she  would  learn  her  destiny, 

Her  duties  and  her  powers, 
And  to  her  origin  devote 

These  consecrated  hours. 

Soul  of  the  universe,  to  thee 

My  soul  her  joyful  homage  pays, 
And  from  her  prison-house  of  clay 

Fain  would  she  chant  her  Maker's  praise. 

5* 


54  HYMN. 

Source  of  my  being,  Lord  of  life ! 

To  thee  the  gift  of  life  I  owe ; 
Feeling  and  thought,  knowledge  and  love, 

Do  from  thy  gracious  bounty  flow, 

Thy  wisdom  framed  our  moral  law, 
Oh!   let  me  then  in  it  abide, 

Be  strength  unto  my  feebleness, 
And  in  my  blindness  be  my  guide. 

Send  wisdom  to  my  darkened  mind, 
And  virtue  to  my  guilty  heart; 

Be  ev'ry  wish  and  thought  refined, 
And  make  me  holy  as  thou  art. 

Creator,  Father,  Witness,  Judge, 
And  aye,  all  other  names  above ; 

Dearest  to  man's  requiring  heart, 
Thou  God  of  everlasting  love. 


HYMN.  55 


HYMN, 


ON    THE    OCCASION    OF    THE    FIRST    CELEBRATION    OF    THANKS- 
GIVING   IN    LOUISIANA. 


Throw  wide  the  portals'  of  the  Lord ! 

And  make  his  altar  free, 
For  myriads  throng,  with  one  accord, 

To  bend  the  suppliant  knee. 
Throw  wide  the  gates !    the  way  prepare, 
A  grateful  people  kneel  in  prayer. 

Come,  ye  oppressed  of  every  land, 

Of  every  clime  and  creed, 
Before  our  holy  altar  stand, 

For  it  is  free  indeed. 
The  Lord  is  on  his  mercy-seat, 

His  blessing  to  accord ; 
And  there  are  none  to  come  between 

The  people  and  their  Lord. 


56  HYMN. 

Before  a  gracious  Father's  throne 

His  children  now  appear 
With  thankful  hearts,  to  celebrate 

The  bounties  of  the  year, 
To  tell  the  goodness  of  the  Lord, 

His  wondrous  love  proclaim ; 
They  come,  they  come  with  one  accord 

To  magnify  his  name. 

Hosannahs  for  the  Lord  of  hosts ! 

Hosannahs  for  our  King ! 
Let  every  heart  with  one  accord 

Glad  Hallelujahs  sing; 
Praised  be  the  Lord !  through  all  the  land 

Let  the  heart's  incense  rise, 
Till  listening  angels  catch  the  strain 

And  waft  it  to  the  skies. 


on   reading   taylor's   diegesis.      57 


(M    READING   TAYLOR'S    DIEGESIS. 

Oh  !   steal  not  thou  my  faith  away, 

Let  ev'ry  earth-born  joy  depart, 
But  leave,  oh,  leave  that  heavenly  ray 
To  shine,  'twill  soothe  my  saddened  heart. 
My  God !  my  God !  bereft  of  thee 
What  were  this  weary  world  to  me? 

With  hope,  faith  crowns  the  martyr's  stake, 

A  glorious  throne  now  seems  the  pile ; 
See  for  religion's  holy  sake 

Death-tortures  borne  with  glad,  proud  smile. 
My  God!  my  God!   bereft  of  thee 
What  were  this  weary  world  to  me  ( 


58        ON     READING    TAYLOB'S     DIEGESIS. 

And  see,  when  grief  the  bouI  hath  riven, 

When  cares  and  sorrows  wring  the  mind, 
To  fervent  faith  the  power  is  given 
The  siuTring  spirit's  wounds  to  bind. 

My  God !   my  God !  bereft  of  thee 
What  were  this  weary  world  to  me '( 

Then  take  all  other  joys  away, 

Friends,  fortune,  health,  let  all  depart, 
But  leave  to  life  its  dearest  stay — 

The  faith  that  dwells  deep  in  the  heart. 

My  God!   my  God!  bereft  of  thee 
What  were  this  weary  world  to  me ! 


AMERICAN     BATTLE     SONG.  59 


AMEKICAN    BATTLE    SONG. 

"Who  would  dread  the  foeman's  steel, 
Battling,  lovely  land,  for  thee? 

Thy  wrongs  alone  our  hearts  shall  feel, 
And  the  wrongs  of  liberty. 

Who  would  seek  a  holier  bed 
Than  the  patriot  hero's  grave  ? 

His  country's  tears  upon  it  shed, 
For  nations  weep  their  fallen  brave. 

Pilgrims'  feet  shall  press  the  sod 
Where  his  sacred  ashes  lie ; 

Nor,  like  common,  vulgar  clod, 
Pass  them  unregarded  by. 


60  AMERICAN     BATTLE     SONG. 

Brightly  then,  in  hist'ry's  page, 

On  the  record  of  his  race, 
Proudly  borne  from  age  to  age, 

He  shall  fill  a  lofty  place. 

"When  the  patriot  hero  dies, 
Guardian  angels  from  above 

To  the  parting  spirit  cry, 

"Welcome  to  the  land  of  love. 

"  Glorious  o'er  the  wreck  of  time, 
Come  the  great  reward  to  meet, 

Where  the  blest  of  ev'ry  clime 
Wait  thy  kindred  soul  to  greet." 

Then  who  would  dread  the  foeman's  steel, 
Battling,  lovely  land,  for  thee? 

Thy  wrongs  alone  our  hearts  shall  feel, 
And  the  wrongs  of  liberty. 


HUMAN     ASPIRATIONS.  61 


HUMAN    ASPIKATIONS. 

For  costly  robes  and  jewels  bright 

My  heart  has  never  pined; 
The  simple  flowers  which  deck  the  field 

Are  dearer  to  my  mind. 
I  love  their  soft  and  fragile  forms, 

Their  sweetness  and  their  grace ; 
Like  man  they  sicken,  fade,  and  die, 

Types  of  a  suff'ring  race. 
And  while  their  fragrance  I  inhale 

And  gaze  npon  their  bloom, 
I  deem  that  spirits  dwell  within, 

Midst  beauty  and  perfume. 
But  those  cold,  hard,  and  changeless  gems, 

Sparkling  forever  bright, 
They  wake  no  chord  of  sympathy, 

No  feeling  of  delight. 


62  HUMAN     ASPIRATIONS. 

I  care  not  for  the  midnight  fete 

Nor  for  the  giddy  dance ; 
I'd  rather,  crouching  at  thy  feet, 

List  to  some  wild  romance, 
Some  touching  tale  of  by-gone  years, 

Or  to  the  witching  lays 
Of  nature's  own  inspired  bards 

Chanting  in  nature's  praise, 
Or  open  the  historic  page, 

The  drama  of  our  race, 
And  see  proud  man  upon  the  stage 

In  ev'ry  clime  and  place. 

The  phantom  hunter,  mark  him  still ! 

All  eager  in  the  chase 
Of  shadows  that  elude  his  grasp 

And  fly  from  his  embrace. 
Golconda  and  Peru  combined, 

With  all  their  gems  and  ore, 
Shall  never  satisfy  his  mind, 

Forever  grasping  more. 

Thou,  plebeian  son  of  Corsica ! 
And  mighty  lord  of  France, 


HUMAN     ASPIRATIONS.  63 

And  Europe's  haughty  conqueror, 

Napoleon !   advance  ! 
Ah!   little  thought  thy  mother 

When  she  rocked  thee  on  her  knee 
And  kissed  thy  baby  forehead 

In  smiling  infancy, 
As  she  pressed  thee  to  her  bosom 

And  sung  her  boy  to  rest, 
That  'twas  an  infant  monarch 

Who  slumbered  on  her  breast! 
That  thrones  should  be  his  playthings, 

And  that  kings  should  be  his  sport, 
And  the  mighty  quail  before  him, 

And  the  proud  be  set  at  naught ; 
That  the  classic  fields  of  Italy, 

And  those  of  haughty  Spain, 
Fair  Portugal,  and  Sicily, 

Be  part  of  his  domain  ; 
And  Austria,  and  Germany 

Be  subject  to  his  sway, 
And  Europe's  fairest,  noblest  realms 

Her  plebeian  boy  obey. 
That  the  fate  of  subject  nations 
Should  depend  upon  his  nod, 


64  HUMAN     ASPIRATIONS. 

That  he'd  walk  o'er  prostrate  Europe 
Like  some  haughty  demi-god. 

Ah!    little  thought  thy  mother, 
As  she  rocked  thee  on  her  knee 

And  kissed  thy  baby  forehead 

That  these  wondrous  things  should  be ! 


And  yet,  imperial  monarch, 

Thou  wert  not  half  so  blest 
In  all  thy  pomp  and  power 

As  when  slumbering  on  that  breast ! 
Speak,  fortune's  giddy  favorite, 

What  boon  did'st  thou  demand 
That  was  not  lavishly  bestowed 

By  her  indulgent  hand? 
And  yet,  insatiate  spirit, 

Had  each  and  all  been  given, 
And  every  clime  been  thine 

'Neath  the  canopy  of  heaven, 
Thou  had'st  not  been  content, 

But  like  Macedon's  mad  fool 
Had'st  wept  for  other  worlds  to  win, 

For  other  worlds  to  rule. 


HUMAN     ASPIRATIONS.  Qo 

Like  Cinderella  thou  transgressed 

And  stayed  beyond  thy  hour, 
And  fortune  left  thee  to  thy  shame, 

And  'reft  thee  of  thy  power. 

Thy  princely  glories  passed  away, 

And  thou  wert  left  alone 
The  prisoner  of  a  lonely  isle, 

A  king  without  a  throne. 
And  thou  who  kept  a  world  at  bay, 

And  didst  a  world  enthrall, 
Where  art  thou?  and  what  art  thou?  say 

All-conquering  lord  of  Gaul ; 
And  where  is  he,  thy  son  and  heir, 

The  child  of  broken  vows? 
His  father's  throne  he  never  filled, 

No  crown  adorned  his  brows: — 
Alas !   for  human  folly, 

Alas !   for  human  pride, 
Alas!   for  man's  defeated  schemes, 

And  hopes  ungratified. 

Thou  thought'st  a  race  of  monarchs 

With  honors  and  renown, 
6* 


66  HUMAN     ASPIRATIONS. 

Should  to  remotest  ages  bear 
Thy  name  in  glory  down. 

And  lo  !   the  cold  and  silent  tomb 
Is  all  of  thee  and  thine, 

A  meet  reward  for  perjured  faith 
And  love's  dishonored  shrine. 


ON    THE    PROSPECT     OF    WAR. 


67 


ON  THE  PKOSPECT  OF  A  WAE  WITH 
GKEAT  BKITAIN. 

Awaken,  proud  bird  of  the  air, 
And  forth  to  the  combat  again; 

The  lion  is  roused  in  his  lair, 
And  shaking  his  terrible  mane. 

Thou  hast  met  him  in  deadliest  strife 
When  thou  wert  but  feeble  and  young ; 

Aye,  fear  not  to  peril  the  life, 

For  now  thou  art  vig'rous  and  strong. 

Not  a  feather  is  lost  from  thy  wing, 
Not  a  star  of  thy  glory  is  set, 

And  the  future  shall  be  as  the  past, 
Whose  halo  illumines  thee  yet. 


68  ON     THE     PROSPECT     OF     WAR, 

Then  waken,  proud  bird  of  the  air, 
And  forth  to  the  combat  again  ; 

The  lion  is  roused  in  his  lair, 
And  shaking  his  terrible  mane. 


TO     GENERAL     JACKSON 


69 


TO    GENERAL    JACKSON, 

IN    ANTICIPATION    OF    HIS    VISIT    TO    LOUISIANA    IN    1828. 

Our  gallant  leader  comes  once  more, 
Then  bid  him  welcome  to  our  shore ; 
Let  grateful  thousands  round  him  press 
To  laud  his  deeds,  his  name  to  bless. 
For  bravest  of  the  brave  is  he, 
The  noblest  son  of  chivalry. 

'Tis  he  who  raised  his  country's  name 
And  filled  the  measure  of  her  fame, 
Who  came  to  save  our  threatened  land 
From  carnage,  plunder,  and  the  brand. 
For  bravest  of  the  brave  is  he, 
The  noblest  son  of  chivalry. 


70  TO     GENERAL     JACKSON. 

His  presence,  like  a  potent  charm, 
Scattered  each  phantom  of  alarm ; 
Despondency  and  deep  dismay 
Fled  like  the  shades  of  night  away. 
For  bravest  of  the  brave  was  he, 
The  noblest  son  of  chivalry. 

No  more  they  cry  capitulate, 

And  yield  the  city  to  her  fate  ; 

No  more  they  fear  the  coming  fray, 

But  hail  it  as  a  glorious  day, 

When  they  their  maiden  swords  shall  try 

With  Britain's  chosen  chivalry. 

Oh!   who  so  bold  a  chief  beneath 
E'er  counted  odds,  or  dreaded  death! 
They  met  the  foe  and  quelled  his  pride, 
The  field  was  ours  in  carnage  dyed  ; 
The  vanquished  foe  in  terror  fled, 
And  left  to  fatten  on  his  dead 
That  6oil  he  vainly  hoped  to  be 
The  scene  of  spoil  and  victory. 

The  rescued  land,  with  one  acclaim, 
Shouts  victory,  and  Jackson's  name! 


TO     GENERAL     JACKSON. 

And  fondly  swears  the  sacred  debt 
She  and  her  sons  will  ne'er  forget. 

What  though  no  monument  appears, 
His  country's  heart  the  record  bears. 
His  country's  heart,  which  proudly  swells 
When  on  his  glorious  deeds  it  dwells  ; 
And  when  she  names  the  glorious  band, 
The  noble  champions  of  the  land, 
Will  proudly  place  her  Jackson's  name 
Amidst  the  highest  sons  of  fame. 

Then  say  her  gratitude  to  show 
What  can  this  country  now  bestow  ? 
A  boon  all  other  boons  above, 
To  be  the  idol  of  her  love 
The  chosen  of  the  brave  and  free, 
Chief  of  the  sons  of  chivalry ! 


72  REQUIEM. 


REQUIEM, 

ON      THE      DEATH      OF      JACKSON. 

Weep,  mother,  weep, 

Weep  for  thy  departed, 
Thy  loving,  thy  beloved, 

Thy  lion-hearted. 
Weep  o'er  thy  hero's  grave, 
Weep  o'er  thy  good  and  brave, 

Weep  for  the  spirit  so  gallant  and  free ; 
Weep  for  that  spirit  fled, 
Weep  o'er  thy  mighty  dead, 

Weep  for  the  heart  that  beat  only  for  thee. 
Weep,  mother,  weep, 
Weep,  mother,  weep. 


TO     MY     COUNTRY.  78 


TO    MY    COUNTRY, 


DURING   THE   TROUBLES   IN   SOUTH   CAROLINA. 

My  country,  my  country,  thy  doom  I  deplore  ! 
My  country,  my  country,  thy  glory  is  o'er! 
Like  a  childless  mother,  thou  sittest  forlorn, 
Thy  beloved  are  departed,  thy  loving  are  gone ! 
Thy  patriot  sages  and  heroes  are  dead, 
Thy  strength  has  departed,  thy  glory  has  fled, 
The  parricide  aims  at  thy  being  the  blow, 
They   would   clothe   thee   in   sackcloth,   and   doom 

thee  to  woe, 
In  blood   they  would  drench  thee  ;   thy  children's 

own  gore, — 
My  country,  my  country,  thy  glory  is  o'er. 


74  TO     MY     COUNTKY. 

My  country,  my  country,  I  weep  for  thy  shame, 
Thy  sons  would  dishonor  thy  glorious  name, 
They  would   clothe   thee   in   ashes,   and   tear   from 

thy  brow 
The  beautiful  garland  that  circles  it  now, 
The  bright  wreath  of  glory  so  gallantly  wove 
By  thy  patriot  sons  for  the  land  of  their  love  ; 
They  did  build  thee  a  temple,  an  altar  divine, 
And  to  brotherly  love  they  erected  the  shrine, 
And  swore,  as  the  glorious  fabric  they  planned, 
That  divided  we  fall,  and  united  we  stand, 
That  united  we  stand,  but  divided  we  fall, 
While  discord  and  anarchy  reign  over  all. 


To  their  sons  they  bequeathed  it  without  stain  or 

flaw, 
Tli is  beautiful  temple  of  freedom  and  law  : 
Then  perish  the  traitor  whose  hand  would  remove 
One  stone  from  our  altar  of  union  and  love  ; 
But  discord  is  here  with  her  horrible  mien, 
And  all  the  base  passions  around  her  are  seen  ; 
They  have  sworn  thy  destruction,  oh,  holiest  fane, 
And  thy  glorious  founders  have  perished  in  vain. 


TO     MY     COUNTRY.  75 

Then   cling    to   their   temple,   and   swear   by   their 

dust, 
To   preserve   the  dear  treasure  consigned   to   your 

trust, 
And   bequeath  to   your  children,  without   stain  or 

flaw, 
The  beautiful  temple  of  freedom  and  law. 


76  TO     MY     COUNTRY. 


TO    MY    COUNTRY, 

WRITTEN    AT    THE    SAME    TIME    WITH    THE    PRECEDING. 

I've  sorrowed  o'er  a  mother's  grave, 

And  o'er  my  children's  bier, 
And  over  friendship's  hallowed  tomb 

Have  given  many  a  tear, 
But  never  with  so  deep  a  grief, 

Nor  with  so  crushed  a  heart, 
Have  I  acknowledged  nature's  pang 

When  kindred  spirits  part, 
As  I  have  wept  thy  feuds  to  see, 
And  mourned  thy  weal  in  jeopardy. 

Accursed  be  the  traitorous  band 
That  this  dear  land  would  sever, 


TO     MY     COUNTRY.  77 

And  break  the  ties  which  sweetly  bind 

Her  kindred  realms  together, 
And  let  the  fiery  passions  loose. 

The  demons  of  the  mind, 
Fell  jealousy  and  deadly  hate, 

Ambition  mad  and  blind, 
To  cause  her  lovely,  peaceful  fields 

With  brothers'  blood  to  flow ; 
Aye !   fix  the  brand,  the  murderous  brand, 

Upon  the  traitor's  brow. 

Raise  once  again  her  standard  sheet, 

And  bid  it  proudly  wave ; 
Beneath  it  never  combated 

The  tyrant  or  the  slave  ; 
It  is  the  banner  of  the  free, 
The  star-lit  flag  of  liberty. 
Aye,  raise  aloft  her  standard  sheet, 

Arouse  her  children  all, 
Sternly  each  patriot  heart  shall  beat 

This  answer  to  her  call. 

"We  come,  we  come,  our  mother  dear, 
Thy  glory  to  sustain  ; 


78  TO     MY     COUNTRY. 

Our  martyred  fathers  died  for  thee, 

The}'  did  not  die  in  vain  ; 
Thou  art  our  country,  great  and  wide, 

A  nation  strong  and  free, 
And  not  that  maimed,  decrepid  thing 

Thy  foes  would  make  of  thee; 
Thou  art  the  queen  of  nations. 

The  refuge  of  our  race, 
The  idol  of  our  fathers'  love, 

Fair  freedom's  resting-place, 
Her  ark  of  safety.      And  we  swear 

Before  her  holy  shrine 
All  other  ties  are  weak  and  frail 

To  those  that  make  us  thine. 
Then  boldly  on,  our  noble  bark, 

Xor  dread  the  hidden  rock  ; 
Thou  art  our  freedom's  holy  ark, 

And  thou  canst  brave  the  shock. 
Thou  hast  a  pilot  firm  and  true, 

With  steady  hand  to  guide, 
And,   aye,  thou  hast  a  gallant  crew, 

In  whom  thou  canst  confide  ; 
Thine  anchor  is  a  people's  love, 

Where  thou  shalt  firmly  rest ; 


TO     MY     COUNTRY.  79 

The  spirits  of  thy  mighty  dead, 

The  spirits  of  the  just, 
Thy  guardian  angels  from  above 

Watch  fondly  o'er  their  trust." 

Then  raise  the  spangled  banner  high, 

Bid  it  still  proudly  wave, 
And  let  the  glorious  eagle  fly 

Above  the  good  and  brave, 
For  'tis  the  banner  of  the  free, 
The  star-lit  flag  of  liberty. 


80  TO     DEATH. 


TO    DEATH. 

Oh  !   death,  sweet  death !  no  tyrant's  form 

I  in  thy  ghastly  figure  see, 
Thou  look'st  the  rainbow  of  the  storm, 

The  harbinger  of  peace  to  me. 
An  angel's  aspect  mild  and  sweet 
I  in  thy  dreaded  image  meet 
Oh !    fly  from  guilt,  from  pleasure  fly, 
And  let  a  wretched  mourner  die. 
The  child  of  grief  invokes  thine  aid, 
In  pity  hear  an  orphan  maid, 
And  kindly  send  thy  friendly  dart 
To  lay  in  peace  an  aching  heart. 

Thou  art  no  stranger  to  my  breast, 
Oft  hast  thou  robbed  it  of  its  rest ; 
Oh !   then  in  mercy  strike  again, 
And  soothe  its  anguish,  heal  its  pain, 


TO     DEATH. 


81 


For  see,  it  bleeds  at  every  pore, 
'Tis  wounded  to  its  very  core; 
The  broken  spirit,  all  forlorn, 
Turns  o'er  its  buried  joys  to  mourn. 
Of  every  hope  on  earth  bereft, 
Of  all  malignant  fate  had  left, 
It  turns  to  beg,  kind  death,  of  thee 
An  asylum  from  misery. 


82  ANNO     DOMINI   '36. 


ANNO    DOMINI    '36, 

Ere  they  toll  the  parting  knell 

Let  grateful  tears  and  blessings  mix 
With  my  sad  but  fond  farewell. 

Fare  thee  well,  wre  part  forever, 
Thou  art  rushing  to  the  main 

Of  past  ages,  and  shalt  never 
To  our  world  return  again. 

/  a  little  longer  stay 

On  the  treacherous  waves  of  time, 
But,  like  thee,   must  pass  away 

To  oblivion's  dark  abyme. 

Sweet  and  pleasant  was  our  greeting, 
As  my  little  bark  did  glide 

No  rude  storm  or  whirlpool  meeting 
In  thy   gently  flowing  tide. 


ANNO     DOMINI     '36.  83 

Smiling  heavens  were  shining  o'er  us, 

Sparkling  waters  danced  below, 
Brightest  prospects  beamed  before  us, 

Soft  each  favoring  breeze  did  blow. 

Health,  her  rosy  banner  waving, 
Love  and  joy  were  in  her  train, 

Hope  came  with  her  heavenly  anchor, 
Friendship  with  his  golden  chain. 

Spirit  of  the  passing  year, 

Gentle  spirit  prithee  stay ; 
I,  without  a  sigh  or  tear 

Fain  would  pass  with  thee  away. 

"  Wouldst  thou  leave  thy  harvest  growing 

In  its  vernal  beauty  bright?" 
"Aye,  ere  the  rude  storm  be  blowing,   • 

Or  the  mildew  fall  to  blight." 

"Wouldst  thou  leave  thy  vouthful  race 
Blooming  round  thy  cheerful  board?" 

"Aye,   ere  time  their  charms  deface, 

Or,  comes  the  bier,  the  pall,  the  shroud." 


84 


Memory  gives  me  such  another, 
Such  a  blessed  band  was  mine  ; 

Where  art  thou,  my  sainted  mother  ? 
Thou  my  sweetest  Caroline  ? 

And  my  darling  brother,  say, 

Father  of  the  culprit  fay  ? 

Nature's  noblest  gifts  adorned  ye, 
Hearts  of  feeling,   souls  of  fire 

Forms  of  richest,  rarest  beauty, 
All  that  love  might  well  inspire. 

Idols  of  my  youthful  love, 

Ye  have  passed  like  shadows  by, 

And  my  heart  has  vainly  strove 
To  resign  ye  to  the  sky. 

Now,  when  with  a  mother's  pride 
In  my  treasures  I'd  rejoice 

From  the  dark  and  silent  grave 
Comes  a  deep,  sepulchral  voice, 

Crying,   "Mortal,   what,  again 
Making  idols  formed  of  clay, 


85 


Hast  thou  then  indeed  forgot 

Those  my  hand  has  snatched  away?" 

Trembling  like  a  frighted  child, 
In  my  mother's  lap  Fd  rest, 

Though  they  be  but  phantoms  wild 
That  my  troubled  soul  molest. 

Then,  spirit  of  the  passing  year, 

Gentle  spirit,  prithee  stay, 
I,  without  a  sigh  or  tear, 

Fain  would  pass  with  thee  away. 


86  A    WIFE     TO     HER    HUSBAND 


A    WIFE    TO    HER    HUSBAND    IN 
ADVERSITY. 

The  clouds  that  nature's  brow  deform 

I  view  with  careless  eye, 
And  reckless  hear  the  pelting  storm, 

And  mark  the  light'nings  fly, 
But  when  the   envious   clouds  of  care 

On  thy  loved  brow  I  see, 
In  vain  does  lovely  nature  smile, 
Her  charms  are  lost  on  me. 

Then  cast  thy  sorrows  to  the  wind, 

And  clear  thy  crowded  brow, 
And  let  me  see  thee  smile  once  more 
As  thou  wert  wont  to  do. 

Come,  let  us  count  our  treasures  o'er, 
The  treasures  fate  has  left ; 


A    WIFE    TO    HER    HUSBAND.  87 

There's  youth,  and  health,  and  love,  and  hope — 

We  are  not  all  bereft. 
We've  loving  hearts,  and  kindred  minds, 

And  hopes  which  dare  to  rise 
On  wings  of  faith  to  brighter  climes, 
To  realms  beyond  the  skies. 

Then  cast  thy  sorrows  to  the  wind, 

And  clear  thy  clouded  brow, 
And  let  me  see  thee  smile  once  more 
As  thou  wert  wont  to  do. 

The  sweetest  cup  of  earthly  joy 

Has  still  its  drops  of  gall, 
And  disappointment,  pain,  and  woe, 

Are  mingled  in  them  all ; 
Vainly  the  exiled  spirit  strives 

Some  heavenly  draught  to  find, 
To  slake  the  quenchless  thirst  for  bliss, 
And  calm  her  restless  mind. 

Then  cast  thy  sorrows  to  the  wind, 

And  clear  thy  clouded  brow, 
And  let  me  see  thee  smile  once  more 
As  thou  wert  wont  to  do. 


88  A    WIFE     TO     HER    HUSBAND. 

Since,  then,  the  happiest  of  our  race 

Are  not  more  blessed  than  we, 
But  bear  the  signet  of  our  doom, 

The  seal  of  misery. 
Oh,  let  us  nerve  our  minds  to  bear 

The  trials  of  our  state, 
Nor  yield  our  spirits  to  despair 
From  the  decrees  of  fate. 

Chase,  dearest,  chase  thy  cares  away, 

And  clear  thy  clouded  brow, 
And  let  me  see  thee  smile  again 
As  thou  wert  wont  to  do. 


GREECE.  89 


GEEECE. 

The  standard  of  freedom  and  Greece  is  unfurled, 
And  she  calls  on  the  good  and  the  brave  of  the 

world 
To  fly  to  her  banner,  to  fly  and  release 
From  the  cruelest  bondage  unfortunate  Greece. 
Bright  spirit  of  chivalry,  rouse  and  awake, 
'Tis  woman,  dear  woman,  thy  slumber  would  break. 
'Tis  beauty  invites  thee  thy  sabre  to  draw 
In  the  cause  of  fair  freedom,  religion,  and  law ; 
'Tis  man,  noble  man,  for  his  birthright  contending, 
'Tis    the    cause    of    high    heaven    the    Greeks    are 

defending  ; 
Then  fly  to  her  banner,  oh,  fly  and  release 
From  the  cruelest  bondage  unfortunate  Greece. 


90  GREECE. 

To  thee,  oh,  my  country,  how  strong  her  appeal! 
For  suffering  freedom,  how  freemen  must  feel ! 
Tis   the   land   of    the   free   and   the   home   of    the 

brave — 
She  is  strong  in  her  glory  and  potent  to  save. 
By  all  that  we  love,  and  by  all  that  we  cherish, 
We  will  not,  we  dare  not,  condemn  her  to  perish. 
Then  fly  to  her  aid,  the  example  to  set — 
Go  wTalk  in  the  steps  of  our  own  Lafayette ; 
The  path  that  he  trod  has  conducted  to  glory 
The  proudest  of  names  on  the  annals  of  story. 
Then  fly  to  her  banner,  oh,  fly  and  release 
From  the  cruelest  bondage  unfortunate  Greece. 

Ye  erudite  youth,  who  enraptured  have  hung 
O'er  the  soul-moving   strains   that   her  Homer  has 


Who  are  versed  in  the  deeds  of  her  glorious  ages, 
Have  communed  with   her   heroes,  her  poets,  and 


Oh,  fly  to  her  aid,  and  your  succor  impart 

To  the  land  of  your  fancy,  the  land  of  your  heart ! 

Oh,  fly  to  her  banner,  oh,  fly  and  release 

From  the  cruelest  bondage  your  own  classic  Greece ! 


GREECE.  91 

Disciples  of  Jesus,  who  proudly  proclaim 
Your  faith  in  his  tenets,  your  joy  in  his  name, 
Who   boast   that   your  God   left   his  throne  in  the 

skies, 
And  wore  your  base  covering  of  dust, 
That  ye  might  in  honor  and  glory  arise 
And  partake  of  the  joys  of  the  just ; 
That  for  you  he  encountered  derision  and  scorn, 
Drank  of  misery's  cup,  wore  a  garland  of  thorn, 
Oh!    say,  will  you  then  with  indiff'rence  behold 
The  wolf  and  the  tiger  let  loose  on  his  fold? 
Shall  they  stretch  forth  their  arms,  and  assistance 

implore 
In  the  name  of  your  Jesus,  the  God  you  adore  ? 
Oh,  fratricide  nations !   yet  pause  and  beware 
How   ye    turn    a   deaf   ear   to    their   heart-rending 

prayer ; 
Kemember  his  fiat,  that  mercy  alone 
For  the  sinner  shall  plead,  for  transgression  atone, 
Bethink    'tis    your    Lord    to    whose    judgment    is 

brought 
Every  act  of  your  lives,  every  word,  every  thought, 
And  say,  have  you  nothing  to  ask  of  his  grace  ? 
Is  there  naught  for  his  pitying  hand  to  efface  ? 


92  GREECE. 

Oh  yes,  for  his  tablet  this  deed  6hall  record, 
How  his  suffering  people  by  you  were  restored, 
How  ye  flew  to  their  succor,  their  fetters  ye  broke, 
And  the  Christian  redeemed  from  the  Mussulman's 

yoke. 
Then  fly  to  her  banner,  oh,  fly  and  release 
From  the  crudest  bondage  unfortunate  Greece ! 


LINES    WRITTEN    AT     FIFTEEN.  93 


LINES    WRITTEN    AT    FIFTEEN. 

She  was  a  simple  maid  of  modest  mien, 
Unskilled  in  arts  of  coquetry,  I  ween, 
And  timid  as  a  fawn.     The  vulgar  eye 
Had  passed  the  unobtrusive  maiden  by ; 
And  yet  that  bashful  mien  and  manner  shy, 
Concealed  a  dauntless  heart  and  spirit  high, 
A  spirit  glowing  with  heroic  fire, 
That  to  the  noblest  actions  might  aspire. 
They  met  as  strangers  meet: 

He  with  bland  courtesy 
The  gentle  girl  did  greet, 

And  passed  her  carelessly ; 
But  she,  that  maiden  meek, 

With  downcast  eye — 
What  meant  that  burning  cheek 
And  stifled  sigh? 


94  LINES    WRITTEN    AT     FIFTEEN. 

Why  do  the  tides  of  life 

Thus  madly  play  ? 
Why  is  her  spirit  sad 

That  erst  so  gay 
Laughed  in  the  sunshine 

'Mid  the  golden  gleam 
Of  her  young  fancies — 

A  romantic  dream  ? 
She  loved,  aye,  madly  loved  ; 

But  vain  the  task 
Of  woman's  heart, 

The  why  she  loves,  to  ask. 

They  met,  he  passed  her  by 
With  a  cold  aspect  and  a  roving  eye, 

Nor  knew,  to  him  was  given 

That  richest  boon  of  heaven — 

A  faithful,  loving  heart, 
With  all  its  gushing 
Springs  of  tenderness ! 

Deep  truth,  and  holy  faith, 

And  never-dying  love ! 

They  met,  he  passed  her  by 
With  a  cold  aspect  and  a  roving  eye! 


TO     ISABELLA.  95 


TO    ISABELLA. 

I  ask  no  sculptor's  aid,  nor  limner's  art, 
To  give  thine  image  graven  on  my  heart ; 
A  thousand  lovely  likenesses  I  see, 
And  each  a  faithful  semblance,  dear,  to  thee, 
Affection's  glowing  hand  thy  form  will  trace, 
With  each  loved  feature  of  thy  speaking  face, 
And  the  sad  heart  will  o'er  the  memory  swell, 
As  busy  memory  whispers,  Bell !    dear  Bell ! 
And  when  my  imps  pursue  their  gambols  wild, 

Till  the  roof  echoes  with  their  noisy  glee, 
I  think,  when  thou  wert  playful  as  a  child, 

And  merriest  of  the  merry  group  would  be, 
Then  will  my  heart  with  soft  remembrance  swell, 
While  busy  memory  wrhispers  Bell !   dear  Bell ! 


96  TO     MY     SONS. 


TO  MY  SONS, 

ON     GOING     TO     THE     RESCUE     OF     GENERAL     TAYLOR. 

'Tis  your  country  that  calls  you, 

Her  summons  obey ; 
Away  to  the  rescue, 

My  brave  boys,  away. 

No  cravens  are  ye, 

When  her  trumpet  shall  sound, 
'Mid  her  gallant  defenders 

Be  first  on  the  ground — 

With  spirits  as  light 

And  as  buoyant  as  air, 
As  bold  as  the  lion, 

As  fleet  as  the  deer. 


9 


TO     MY     SONS.  97 

For  jour  country  has  called  you, 

Her  summons  obey; 
Away  to  the  rescue, 

My  brave  boys,  away. 

Though  with  many  a  pang 

It  may  burden  my  heart, 
Crowned  with  love  and  with  blessings 

My  children  depart. 

To  the  great  God  of  battles, 

That  rules  in  the  skies, 
To  the  great  God  of  battles 

My  prayers  shall  arise, 

To  guide  and  to  guard  you 

Wherever  you  rove, 
And  in  safety  restore  me 

The  sons  of  my  love. 

Then  away  to  the  battle, 

My  brave  boys,  away, 
'Tis  your  country  that  calls  you, 

Her  summons  obey. 


98  OLD     BUSTLE     HALL. 


OLD   BUSTLE    HALL. 

Our  happy  home — old  Bustle  Hall, 
'Twas  named  in  days  of  yore, 

When  the  noisy  beat  of  children's  feet 
Eesounded  on  the  floor. 

When  childhood's  happy  voices  blent, 
And  forth  its  joyous  spirit  sent, 

And  all  was  mirth  and  revelry, 
The  merry  rout,  the  laugh,  the  shout, 

'Till  the  house  was  wild  with  glee, 
And  the  roof  echoed  with  the  noise 
Of  laughing  girls,  and  romping  boys. 
That  merry  din  is  heard  no  more  ; 
The  song,  the  dance,  the  laugh,  are  o'er 
And  now  'tis  solemn  silence  all, 
Li  our  noisy  home,  old  Bustle  Hall. 


OLD     BUSTLE     HALL.  99 

The  father  sat  in  his  old  arm-chair, 

And  the  mother  was  by  his  side, 
With  a  band  of  children  gathered  there, 

That  father's  hope  and  pride, 
And  love  and  joy  beamed  in  his  face 
As  he  smiled  and  blessed  his  blooming  race ; 
For  sure  around  that  nursery  hearth 
Was  the  happiest  group  on  the  face  of  the  earth. 

That  old  arm-chair,  the  father's  throne, 
Is  vacant  now,  that  group  is  gone 

That  filled  the  house  with  glee, 
And  the  widowed  mother  sits  alone 

In  her  silent  nursery ; 
And  every  joyous  sound  has  fled, 
For  the  house  mourns  her  hallowed  dead, 
And  now  'tis  solemn  silence  all 
In  our  happy  home,  old  Bustle  Hall. 


100  TO     MY     ELDEST     SOX 


TO    MY    ELDEST    SOX, 

R E  T  U  R  N I N  G       FROM      THE      ARMY. 

A  welcome  from  the  bloody  field, 

My  own,  my  darling  boy, 
The  record  of  your  daring  deeds 

Has  filled  my  heart  with  joy. 

Well  have  you  battled  for  the  land, 

And  nobly  have  you  won 
The  soldier's  meed  of  well-earned  praise, 

My  brave,  my  gallant  son. 

Full  many  an  anxious  hour  has  passed 

Since  to  my  aching  breast, 
With  many  a  sad  and  fond  farewell, 

My  warrior  boys  I  pressed. 


TO     MY     ELDEST     SON.  101 

Your  father  on  his  sick  bed  lay, 

Upon  his  bed  of  pain  ; 
I  deemed  that  ye  would  never  see 

That  father's  face  again. 

And  I  was  desolate,  while  ye 

My  pride,  my  hope,  my  stay, 
Were  hurrying  to  the  bloody  field, 

Far  from  your  home  away. 

For  the  foe  was  on  our  borders, 

And  our  gallant  little  band 
Was  threatened  with  destruction, 

And  dishonor  to  the  land. 

The  lovely  banner  of  the  free, 

Our  glorious  standard-sheet, 
Must  it  be  trampled  in  the  dust, 

Beneath  our  foemen's  feet? 

The  mother  and  the  patriot 

Long  struggled  in  my  heart; 
My  country  won  the  victory — 

I  bade  my  sons  depart, 


9* 


102  TO     MY     ELDEST     SOX. 

I  bade  ye  to  her  rescue  fly, 

Be  foremost  in  the  fray, 
And  win  fresh  laurels  for  the  land  ; 

And  well  did  ye  obey. 

Sorrow  and  death  were  in  my  house, 
The  shroud,  the  bier,  the  pall ! 

The  king  of  terrors  took  my  babe 
And  boldly  menaced  all. 

My  days  were  past  in  troubled  thought, 

And  agonizing  fears ; 
I  tossed  upon  my  sleepless  bed, 

My  pillow  bathed  in  tears. 

I've  seen  ye  in  the  prison-house, 
I've  seen  ye  racked  with  pain, 

I've  watched  beside  your  dying  bed, 
I've  seen  ye  'midst  the  slain. 

But  now  I  hold  you  to  my  heart, 
And  fain  would  clasp  another; 

Why  stays  he  on  the  bloody  field  ? 
Why  stays  he  from  his  mother? 


TO     MY     ELDEST     SON.  103 

Then  welcome  to  your  happy  home, 

My  brave,  my  gallant  boy, 
The  record  of  your  daring  deeds 

Has  filled  my  heart  with  joy. 

Now,  to  the  God  of  battles, 
Who  rules  the  earth  and  skies ; 

To  whom  my  fervent  prayers  were  sent, 
Let  heartfelt  thanks  arise. 

Hosannahs  to  the  Lord  of  hosts, 

Hosannahs  to  our  King ; 
From  the  deep  fountains  of  the  heart 

The   heart's  pure  incense  bring. 

Xote. — The  eldest  son  returned  after  the  battle  of  Monterey  ; 
the  second,  who  was  also  in  that  battle,  went  with  General 
Worth's  division  to  Vera  Cruz,  and  thence  towards  the  city  of 
Mexico.  He  was  in  that  campaign  until  and  including  the  , battle 
Cerro  Gordo;  thereafter  he  returned.  Both  these  sons  afterwards 
preceded  their  mother  to  the  grave. 


104  A     MOTHER    TO     HER     SONS, 


A    MOTHER    TO    HER    SONS    ON    THEIR 
MARRIAGE. 

Her  task  of  love  is  o'er, 

They  need  her  care  no  more, 
Her  faithful  vigils  has  she  kept, 

Those  vigils  now  are  o'er. 

She  has  fed  them  from  her  bosom, 
And  through  their  tender  years 

Watched  o'er  them  with  a  mother's  love 
A  mother's  hopes  and  fears. 

With  many  a  goodly  precept 

Hath  she  stored  each  ductile  mind, 

Taught  their  duty  to  their  Maker, 
And  their  duty  to  their  kind. 


A    MOTHER    TO     HER    SONS.  105 

And  now,  in  youthful  vigor, 

They  are  standing  by  her  side, 
In  manhood's  strength  and  glory, 

In  youthful  manhood's  pride. 

They  have  souls  of  dauntless  courage, 

And  honor  without  stain ; 
Their  own  rights  and  their  country's  rights 

Will  fearlessly  maintain. 

How  fares  it  with  thee,  mother — 

The  tears  are  in  thine  eyes, 
There's  sorrow  on  that  aged  brow, 

Thy  bosom  heaves  with  sighs? 

Oh,  fond  and  jealous  mother! 

And  dost  thou  then  repine 
That  other,  and  that  younger  love 

Should  sway  those  hearts  of  thine? 

Aye,  fond  and  jealous  mother, 

Thy  reign  of  love  is  o'er, 
And  thou  canst  never  be  again 

What  thou  hast  been  of  yore. 


106  A    MOTHER    TO     HER    SONS. 

But  wouldst  thou  keep  them  children  still, 
As  lingering  round  thy  knee, 

Thy  kiss  the  cure  of  every  ill? 
This  may  not,  cannot  be. 

'Tis  nature's  law,  then  murmur  not, 

But  with  becoming  grace 
To  other  and  to  younger  love, 

Fond  mother,  yield  thy  place. 

And  wipe  those  foolish  tears  away, 

Bid  selfishness  depart ; 
Look  only  to  thy  children's  weal, 

The  darlings  of  thy  heart. 

Then  blessings  may  their  new  love  bring, 
And  may  their  coming  years, 

With  health  and  gladness  on  their  wing, 
Bring  joy  undimmed  by  tears. 

May  sweet,  domestic  peace  be  theirs, 
To  guard  love's  sacred  fires  ; 

And  may  the  scions  of  my  house 
Be  worthy  of  their  sires. 


MY     LITTLE     GRANDSON.  107 


MY    LITTLE    GKANDSON. 


A      FRAGMENT. 


Giye  me  thy  tiny  palm,  my  darling  boy, 

And  I  will  read  thy  destiny. 

Would'st  thou  then  with  impious  hand  unveil  his 

future  ? 
Presumptuous  !     knowest    thou    not   suffering    and 

sorrow, 
Pale    disease,    and    death,    lie    hid     beneath    that 

curtain  ? 
Destroy  not  life's  illusions !   leave  the  future 
Shrouded  in  mystery.      Let  fancy  throw 
Her  rainbow  tints  around,  and  hope,  with  golden 

sunshine, 
Gild  the  clouds  that  hang  about  it. 
Still  my  curious  mind  demands  what  art  thou? 


108  MY     LITTLE     GRANDSON. 

Art  thou  of  those  the  early  called  to  their 
Celestial  home  :    earth's  pilgrims  of  an  hour, 
And  summoned  hence  to  the  abode  of  angels, 
There  to  dwell  forever  in  the  presence  of  their  God  ? 
Art  thou  of  those,  the  master-spirits  that  control 
The  world,  bending  the  will  of  others  to  their  own, 
Swaying  the  multitude,  even  as  the  wind 
Doth  sway  the  sapling?     If  such  thou  art. 
Heaven  grant  thee  wisdom  to  direct  thy  course, 
And  virtue,  lest  the  godlike  gift  of  power 
Should  be  perverted  unto  selfish  ends, 
And  thou  become   a  tyrant. 
Art  thou  of  those,  the  sons  of  generous  valor, 
Such  as  stand  between  the  country  and  her  foes, 
Defenders  of  her  rights,  avengers  of  her  wrongs, 
And  guardians  of  her  sacred  honor. 


Ave,   thou  shalt  be   a  hero. 


TO     MY     MUSE.  109 


TO    MY    MUSE. 

And  dost  thou  my  call  refuse, 
Friend  of  my  life,  my  gentle  muse  ? 
Have  I  not  loved  thee  all  too  well, 
And  owned  through  life  thy  magic  spell? 
A  lisping  child  I  learned  from  thee 
Sweet  nature's  holy  minstrelsy ; 
"With  thee  I  worshipped  at  her  shrine 
And  owned  her  lovely  face  divine, 
Drank  draught  of  beauty,  and  the  while 
Drew  inspiration  from  her  smile. 
Little  knew  we  of  arts    and  rules, 
Or  cared  for  critics  or  the  schools ; 
'Twas  nature's  impulse  keenly  felt, 
Making  the  heart  to  glow  and  melt, 
And  like  the  wild  bird  on  the  spray, 
We  carolled  forth  our  untaught  lay  ; 
10 


110  TO     MY     MUSE. 

And  when  obtrusive  step  was  heard, 
Hushed  was  the  music  of  the  bird. 
Hope's  syren  song  is  heard  no  more, 
And  love's  enchanting  dream  is  o'er, 
Youth  and  the  joys  of  youth  are  fled, 
And  all  the  charm  of  life  is  dead, 
And  wilt  thou,  too,  my  friend  depart, 
]STor  stay  to  cheer  my  weary  heart, 
Oh,  stay,  and  with  thy  lay  divine 
Soothe  the  sad  hours  of  life's  decline ! 


THE    END. 


i! ml  ill 


